


Scattered Remnants

by Marred_Tales



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 12:17:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 113,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16764985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marred_Tales/pseuds/Marred_Tales
Summary: Members from teams RWBY and JNPR, along with others from Remnant are thrown into the world of A Song of Ice and Fire. They are scattered throughout the Seven Kingdoms and Essos. Will they be able to find one another and make a new life for themselves. How will their presence change the events of the story and will it be for better or for worse. Death is always around the corner.





	1. Prologue: Welcome to Westeros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, just bringing my story across from FanFiction for those that prefer using this site. Hope you enjoy.

A raging storm on a late summers night is when it all happened. Thunder echoed all throughout Westeros and Essos. Fork lightning lit the black sky as the rain poured. Those without rooves over their heads covered in fear. Men out hunting took cover in caves or under large trees. Dogs howled and horses whinnied and rattled their holdings. Stable boys and men alike to the night trying to calm the beasts.

Sailors all over prayed to their Gods that their ships were left untouched. Although the ships were surrounded by water the effect of lightning was still something to be scared of. Fire, electrocution, any damage to the ship and the change of the waters around them, growing rough and wild with the storm. The threat of being thrown overboard becoming increasingly likely

Dothraki riders didn’t fear the storm, they only feared their horses would bolt. What was a Dothraki without his horse after all. The brave among the horses allowed their riders to remain under cover while the lesser riders had to control the more skittish horses who pulled on the ropes. Many would break free and run during the night.

The storm only increased in its destructive nature. Sure, there would be some farmers that were thankful for the rain in the drier parts of the world. But here and there where the fork lightning would touch the ground or strike a tree, a small fire would burn. The strange thing was, that each place the lightning touched down, something was left behind.

Something, someone in each location. Dotted from beyond The Wall to the north of Westeros to the sands of Dorne in the south and across the Narrow Sea into Essos, unconscious creatures were placed. The rain that fell didn’t touch them, it was like a barrier had formed around each shape that kept them warm and dry, protected from the elements. Even the flames had no effect as they licked the barrier. Trees that were torn from their roots or snapped and fell atop them were split in two creating physical barrier for when they awoke.

It was the harshest storm during that long summer and the Maesters would record it as such, a sign that winter was indeed coming. The words of house Stark were not words of intimidation, but a reminder that winter was always going to return, and after such a long summer there were children who were in the adolescence that had not experienced a winter. The same went for those who arrived on that world. They’d always experienced set winters of a few months unless they’d come from snowy regions or lived in arid climates.

But that was still a way off. The King of the Seven Kingdoms, Robert Baratheon was making his way north to Winterfell after the death of his hand. His old friend who helped him in two wars resided there, the Warden of the North, Eddard Stark. A large host of men including the entire royal family and all seven members of the King’s Guard accompanied the King on the long journey north.

Said journey took several weeks thanks to the King’s insistence on stopping at nearly every tavern or town along the way. The night of storm, the King was passed out from all his drinking. The host all had cover, but those on watch to protect and warn the others were given no such boon.

The winds broke branches off trees that tore into the tents. Tore the pegs from others and exposed several men to a night of frustration and anger, not that the King would care as he remained oblivious to the outside world. And as the sun rose and the King’s host set off, the new members of the world waking in unfamiliar surroundings, alone.

Far beyond The Wall where the Wildlings and other creatures lived, a girl awoke. As she did the barrier she had faded and the cold winds of winter and snow that surrounded her nipped at her skin. Her ears flattened and she grabbed herself, heading for the closest cover which was nothing more than a tree. There was nothing around save for more trees and snow, it was quiet too, no birds or other wild animals made a sound.

Going south just past The Wall another of the children awoke. A boy with long black hair with a magenta streak and pale pink eyes. There were no trees around him and it wasn’t as cold as the girl further north, but his skin still crawled as the icy wind gnawed at his bones through his thin clothing. Looking north a great wall of ice stood before him stretching left and right further than he could see. “I can’t remember this in any textbooks”.

Outside the walls of Winterfell, a certain Heiress got to her feet. She could see the old castle in the distance and before it, heading straight towards her several beings closing in quickly. She made sure her weapon was still at her side which it was. “Grimm? Dear Oum, where the hell am I?” With her blade ready, she made herself ready for combat, being a huntress in training she wasn’t about to let herself be surprised.

In the mountains of the lands belonging to House Arryn, Warden of the East the youngest member of team RWBY awoke. Although the was not snow around her, the altitude made the air thin and cold, even her red cloak did little to protect her. She was still better off than those in the north though, and as figures slowly closed in she called out. “Hello! Over here!” Yelling was returned that she couldn’t make out, the morning sun reflecting from their helms.

To the west and across The Trident, in The Riverlands controlled by House Tully. A girl with a golden mane made it to her feet. The ground beneath her solid, but all around it appeared to be swampy. Save for one path that lead towards smoke that was rising from behind a curtain of trees. Not one to hesitate and one who enjoys a challenge, she pressed on. Only being careful to avoid stepping off the solid path, with only the clothes on her back she’d rather not have them become soaked.

Across the waters and onto Pyke someone with a fear of water was regaining consciousness. Around him stood several men and women, all with looks of fear, anger, curiosity. Reaching for his weapon he got to his feet, only to fall on the uneven rock formation. Laughter surrounds him as the people all drew their weapons. “Hang on! What did I do? Where am I?” He yelled as he pointed his weapon and moved it back and forth.

At the Lannister stronghold of Casterly Rock, a young man with a strong build and a mace strode towards the castle. He’d already injured two men from the castle for trying to take his weapon which warranted the head of the house to make his presence known. And even here in Westeros, the boy felt intimidated simply by his presence, something about the elderly man just felt off.

The capital city of King’s Landing had some damage done to it from the storm. An old house, abandoned and unoccupied was struck by fork lightning as if chosen by the gods. There, inside the ruins of the building a young woman wielding a rather large hammer forced her way out and into an unfamiliar city. The people looked at her with bewilderment. “What? I couldn’t get out. The house was already broken”. She said with a smile adorning her face.

Storm’s End, the great fortress that held out against mighty odds during the uprising of Robert Baratheon was visited by a girl. This girl had turquoise hair and green eyes and held to her side some kind of board. She was let into the city and a raven sent to the fortress’s current Lord. Renly Baratheon, the King’s youngest brother.

On the island of Tarth, a woman who many consider to be rather ugly, but never to her face. She stood over a sleeping boy who wore a hooded shirt and patchy armour at best. She gave his foot a kick which made the boy come to life. His first action was to yawn followed by an eye rub. As he started to focus he meet the woman’s eyes. Armoured and hand on her hilt she wasn’t taking any chances. “Where am I?” He only got a one word reply in Tarth, and it wasn’t helpful at all.

The Reach controlled by House Tyrell also had a visitor. A young man of great height and strength. His green armour clinging to his left arm and clothing suited the Tyrell colours and his presence daunted many of those who saw him. Polite but quiet, he waited patiently as the Lord was fetched. As he waited he looked around the castle, he too was at a loss for where he was.

In the sands of the southernmost Kingdom of Westeros the morning was off to a different start. The men sent to investigate the strange occurrence were found dead and sitting on a rock looking somewhat confused sat a short girl with different coloured eyes and hair to match. Luckily a Prince of Dorne was with the new force and he began to convince the woman to return to Sunspear with him and his men.

In Essos on the plains of the Dothraki Sea, a shieldmaiden made her way about under the rising sun. She could already feel the heat beating down upon her. “Where am I? The desert of Vacuo or Menagerie?” She wondered as a distant village came into view. With her shield and weapon stored on her back and her bright red hair blowing in the breeze she marched towards the village. She remained on alert, keeping her eyes on her surroundings given the lack of knowledge of her current whereabouts.

With the twelve new members awake, all face different challenges as well as learning about the new lands they’ve found themselves in. How will the Lords or whoever finds them react to whatever they tell them, assuming they reveal where they’re from and who they are. Will the teams or individuals be able to find one another or someone they know? Or will they be forced to remain where they are, killed or imprisoned.

Only the future will tell who lives or dies and the decisions they’ll make. Will they take oaths and become loyal to a single house or live freely and act however they choose until they meet their end one way or another. What will the people from Remnant do in their new world, and how will their actions affect those they encounter.

* * *

**Given that the people of Remnant that I’ve chosen have aura and semblances I have thought of how some of them will come into play. Stay tuned if you want to find out what impacts their “powers” will have, and their vulnerability.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter #1: Unfamiliar lands part #1 - Team RWBY**

* * *

**Ruby **

The men found Ruby atop a lone column of stone. Her red cape fluttering in the wind, her hood covering her black hair with red tips. They asked how she got there but she didn’t know, so they asked her to accompany them back to the Eyrie which was only a short walk away. Given Ruby’s semblance of speed she could have covered the distance much quicker without the need to navigate through the rock outcrops. But she didn’t.

Along the way she pressed the men for answers. Where she was, who they were, what the Eyrie is. The men didn’t answer, they simply mocked her for her stupidity. They’d assumed she was from the Vale and had simply gotten lost during the night, but the Knight among them was still wary of the girl who knew nothing.

“Come on!” Ruby squeaked as she skipped around the armoured men. They were already tiring from all the ups and downs, their hands that were previously resting on their hilts had become tools to help pull and stabilise them. “Why do you guys wear so much armour, we have….”

“We wear it for protection you foolish girl”. One of the men barked. Ruby not being so easy dismayed just huffed.

“Well sooooorry. Geez, where are we anyway?” Ruby asked, she’d still not been told where she was, only where they were going.

“You’re in the Vale, controlled by the Lord of House Arryn. I am Ser Vardis Egen, Captain of the Guard”. The knight, a man past his prime with black hair and beard, grey sprinkled throughout his hair showing his age.

“Ser? Where on Remnant are we exactly? This doesn’t look anything like Vale to me” The hooded girl asked again. The men looked at each other before leaving it to Ser Vardis to answer the girl’s question.

“I don’t know what Remnant is, but you are in one of the seven kingdoms of Westeros”. Ruby didn’t understand this and her usual energetic and care free self was rendered quiet. That was until she saw the Eyrie, a castle atop a huge tower of stone. She was awestruck, the castle was unlike anything she’d ever seen. She began to giggle in excitement and almost ran towards it until she saw the Knight’s face.

Dome shaped rooves sat atop sturdy looking stone buildings. Ruby couldn’t wait to get inside, but the only way up was a thin pathway allowing for no more than two people abreast. She found herself following behind Ser Vardis with two other men behind her. The others remained at the bottom of the path. It didn’t take long to realise why as the two men and the knight began to tire. Ruby went to overtake Ser Vardis but an arm outstretched.

“You will remain behind me at all times and only speak when spoken to. Got that girl?” He asked, his voice had turned rough and irritable. She just nodded and returned to her position behind him. She checked her lower back to find Crescent Rose still attached. Breathing a sigh of relief, she started to gently hum. _These men are out of shape. I wonder where the others are?_ She thought to pass the time.

Upon entering the castle, Ruby was given no time to look around as she was told to wait quietly while Ser Vardis made sure the Lady of the Vale was ready in the High Hall. One of the men give her a nudge to move her along that she complained about. But on entering the hall her eyes widened as she took it all in.

A circular room with small pillars to hold up the roof, candles lighting the room and two staircases starting at the back third of the room. They were either side of a raised platform and led up to where an older looking woman sat upon a throne made from weirwood. The woman’s eyes fell on Ruby who gulped.

She was slender but not very pretty, she had the blue eyes of the Tullys along with the auburn hair which she had tied neatly. Two tails of hair that started at the rear of her head rested over her shoulders and onto her chest. Her eyes were what really made Ruby uncomfortable, unblinking and cold, showing no emotion and a certain annoyance.

“My Lady. I have found this girl, she claims she doesn’t know where she is”. Ser Vardis told the woman who still hadn’t taken her eyes off Ruby. Ruby on the other hand had begun to fidget and kept looking away from the older woman.

“You don’t know where you are? Tell me you name child and well see if we can’t place where you are from”. The older woman spoke.

“Ruby Rose. I’m from Vale, but not this Vale. Another one”. This only served to confuse the Lady and Ser Vardis, who had both just returned from King’s Landing after the death of her late husband.

“Rose sounds like you should be from the Reach, yet you say you are from Vale. Only not this Vale?” The woman asked wanting to get the information out of the young girl.

“Yep! There are four kingdoms where I come from, that man…” She said pointing to Ser Vardis “…. Said there are seven here. Where on Remnant are we?” She asked. She didn’t mean any disrespect and her voice had only raised a little, yet she was still scolded by a nearby guard.

“I have no knowledge of this, Remnant or four other kingdoms. This world is yet to be fully explored, so perhaps your Remnant is part of it”. Ruby’s energy practically fades into nothing. Remnant is the name of the world she and her friends come from. For the woman before her, obviously someone of importance to know nothing of it sent chills went down Ruby’s spin as she started to consider the possibilities. Remnant had been explored after all, this land wasn’t a part of it. _Where am I? Oum… help me._

* * *

** Weiss **

It wasn’t Grimm that were approaching her at such a speed. Although it was something she hadn’t thought she’d see either. Horses weren’t very common on Remnant, yet here were four along with their riders. She kept [Myrtenaster](http://rwby.wikia.com/wiki/Myrtenaster) at the ready as the sound of hooves on the cold earth rumbled closer and closer.

They were on her quickly but she made no move to run away. She wanted information, to know where she was and how to get back to Beacon and her friends. They stopped just short of her, five meters or so with the lead one looking dumbfound that there was a small girl with only a dress on. Weiss would argue that it was a combat dress if it was ever called anything else, but it wasn’t addressed as she herself was.

“What’s a sweet young thing like you doing out here after a storm like that?” Came a voice from behind the first rider. Weiss narrowed her eyes and stared at the man. He was clearly younger, had a decent face with a thin beard, brown hair and eyes to match.

“I would suggest you watch your tone. I’ve had plenty of suitors, all of which put you to shame”. The man scowled at her while the other two began to laugh and mock him.

“How about I just show you what I can do then girl”. He replied, moving his horse forward. Weiss stepped back and got into a fighting stance, as she drew [Myrtenaster](http://rwby.wikia.com/wiki/Myrtenaster) and pointed its thin tip at the horse. It reared and the man atop tumbled to the ground with a thud. Weiss was quick to move beside him and as he moved his cloak that had blocked his view he froze.

“Hm, not a challenge at all. A waste of my time”. She pointed the blade away and walked over to the first man that had arrived, his express had softened yet he had his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Which way leads to Beacon?” She asked. _Their weapons look old. Wherever I am must be either isolated or somewhere I haven’t read about._

He looked at her in confusion which made Weiss frown. “I don’t know which direction that is. But perhaps, if you come back to Winterfell the Maester could point you in the right direction Ms?” Weiss only took a moment before agreeing to the man’s offer.

“Fine. But I’m not walking there. I want that fools horse”. The man obliged the Heiress and made the young man walk back to Winterfell unless one of the other two wanted to have him ride on the same horse.

Weiss found herself too short to mount the horse, mostly due to the face she’d expose her underwear if she tried. She crossed her arms and frowned. _Stupid horse being too tall. Stupid dress, stupid…._ The clearing of a throat made her turn around.

“My name is Hallis Mollen, I could aid you in mounting the horse if you’ll let me”. Weiss felt her heart speed up. She’d rather not be touched even with the gloves this man, Hallis, was wearing. After a few seconds of consideration Weiss consented and he helped her onto the horse and got her feet in the stirrups.

With a leg on each side and the reins in her hands the others left Hallis to deal with the girl. He too started to leave and Weiss started to panic. It only took a moment for him to turn around and smile. “You don’t know how to ride do you child?” _Child!? I’m seventeen thank you very much._ She thought but didn’t dare say it. She could use some more assistance.

“Must be nobility of some kind hmm? Not that little ladies such as yourself should be carrying a weapon anyway”. _Little lady!_ She scowled at him, but with his guidance Weiss made her way slowly and uneasily to the gates of Winterfell. She learned that it is located next to the Kingsroad that leads all the way down to King’s Landing. Neither of those names rang a bell to the heiress who was still completely lost.

Inside she saw what she could only describe as old medieval designs and lacking certain qualities she’d grown up used to. The ground wasn’t paved with stone blocks or even pebbled, mud and grass the ground was, natural and hard from the cold. Stone and wooden buildings littered the interior of the first wall. She figured being a castle there would be at least one blacksmith, and a lot of accommodation for the soldiers and guards garrisoned there.

But the thing she found most interesting wasn’t the buildings, but the banners that hung from the tall towers and above the gateways. A grey wolf on a white backdrop, fur made scaled armour for its neck. As she stared at the banner, Hallis ordered one of the men to fetch the Lord. Catching the word Lord, Weiss turned to him.

“Who is this Lord?” She asked, still unsure of where she was. _Perhaps he can point me in the right direction._ They dismounted, but as Hallis was about to continue a small pup ran up to Weiss and stopped. It tilted its head and whined. Weiss liking dogs remembered her partner’s dog Zwei that had been sent to Beacon.

Squatting down with her legs closed so no one would see up her combat dress, she extended her hand slowly. The pup sniffed her fingers a little before licking them. Weiss smiled and moved her other hand atop its head and scratching its ears. “Who’s a good puppy, you are, you are. Yes you are”. Hallis watched in awe, the Stark children’s direwolf pups didn’t take kindly to others interacting with them.

While Weiss was busy patting the pup its owner stood observing. A young girl named Arya Stark was very interested in the scarcely clothed stranger who was happily patting her direwolf. She stepped forward enough so Weiss turned her head up, the pup moving back to Arya’s side. Observing from the base of a stairway off to the side stood Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.

“Aren’t you cold?” Arya asked the girl and she stood back up. Weiss looked the girl over. Younger and shorter, skinny with troubled hair and fair skin, but not a pale as her own. Her hair was dark brown and her eyes an odd grey.

“I am rather cold if am being honest. My name’s Weiss”. She watched as the younger girl looked her over and scrunched her face.

“You like wearing dresses like my stupid sister?” Weiss frowned and crossed her arms.

“This isn’t a dress. It’s a combat dress and don’t you forget it”. She turned her face up and turned away slightly, but in doing so she gave Arya a clear view of her weapon. Arya who was about to make fun of her again for liking dresses, stopped. Finally seeing her dad she pointed at the weapon.

“How come she can use a sword but I can’t?” Arya always wanted to learn the sword but her father had never allowed it. It was only because she started to sneakily perform archery that she became proficient at it. And that took a long time, she wasn’t supposed to be doing it, yet when she’d finally hit the bullseye she’d heard clapping from her father. From then on he allowed her to practice archery, but she truly longed to learn the sword.

Weiss followed the girl’s gaze to find an older looking man with a thick fur cloak and boiled leather underneath. It looked warm and just thinking of it made Weiss’s skin shiver. The man himself had brown hair and grey eyes like the girl, his beard had greys coming through showing his age. His face seemed long and serious, but a smile plastered it as she heard him chuckle.

“Run along Arya, I have to talk with our guest”. He turned his focus to Weiss and his face hardened. She felt a little threatened, it was almost like dealing with her father, a horrid man who did nothing except see her as a tool for furthering the family name. A name that he’d married into. And so, Weiss was asked along by the Lord of Winterfell where they discussed who she was and where she was.

* * *

** Blake **

She’d already been wandering around for hours. The sun was rising, near midday as she continued to walk. Feet sinking into the snow-covered ground with every step. Blake hadn’t even managed to see a single animal the whole time. Her amber eyes darted around her surroundings and over the landscape whenever she made it to the top of a hill of cliff. Midday her teeth were chattering, Bake hadn’t been going to visit a snowy area back on Remnant so her attire was lacking in warmth.

The trees towered above the Faunus, their icy leaves hanging down, threatening to drop on anything stupid enough to hide beneath them. She noted how sharp some of them seemed. _I bet they could at least cut bare skin._ And although she might be right, the blood at the base of a distant tree wasn’t from an iced leaf, there was simply too much blood.

Blake seeing the red soaked snow started to track it. It was easy to follow even through what little greenery there was. Ducking under low hanging branches and rubbing against wet ferns of various kinds dampened Blake’s clothing to the point she was walking with her arms wrapped around herself. Red here, red there, a small hill with the blood trail leading up it along with three different tracks.

One was clearly an animal of some kind, the other tracks were human like footprints side by side. Stumbling and falling to her knees, the cold spread further over her body. The culprit was a rock hidden under the snow. Frustrated and cold she nearly swore before she caught sight of those she was tracking. Far ahead two figures disappeared into a cave.

“Oum damn it!” She cursed and stood up. She kicked the snow causing a clump to move and resettle. She’d only been there a short time and already she was growing to hate snow. Cold and unforgiving, clothing doing nothing more than keeping her cold. Her breath being the only noticeable warm thing as the mist wafted forth.

Trudging on she muttered under her breath. Cursing the snow, the cold, Weiss, but at the same time wishing she had at least someone to talk to. The tracks, and blood by extension led into the cave where she saw the figures disappear into. She was less than five meters the cave when she could see it wasn’t completely dark in there. Light glimmered through the cracked ceiling where ice hadn’t frozen over. Rays of light illuminating some of the cave, though with Faunus natural ability to see well in the dark the rays didn’t matter much to her.

And that’s when she heard it. A roar, not from a man but from an animal. Yelling followed. Curses and then rumbling. “Cut it off!” Someone yelled from within. “Are you mad?!” Another voice answered before a shape sharped to pass through some of the light rays. Blake stood there, cold and frozen, not wanting to move but needing to as the huge mass neared the entrance, its exit of the cave.

Blake seen the animal’s eyes glisten with life as it burst outside. Within a few meters now she had to act. To let it go or cut it down was the conflict she fought within. The great beast was no less than a bear, bleeding and wounded, a spear lodged in its side. She was amazed that it was still alive, let alone still had that much energy. _The will to live... Sorry my friend._ She said almost prayer like before jumping to the side as it ran past her.

It only took a moment for Blake to do something she’d performed hundreds, thousands of times over. Unsheathing Gambol Shroud, she slashed at the bears throat as it passed, the long katana like blade passing through a vital point. The raging beast’s roar died out quickly with little more than a whine at the end. Warm blood covered the snow before Blake as the bear slowed and toppled over, dying from the mortal wound Blake inflicted upon it.

The bear’s blood dripped from her blade as she walked over, cleaning it on the bear’s hide. Initially sad, one thought hit Blake above anything else. The fur hide of the bear would be warm enough to shield her from the wind. Not that she knew how to skin the beast and make a cloak. Sheathing Gambol Shroud, she looked over the bear. _I killed it, doesn’t look like a Grimm though._ She moved to its head, examining it, and deciding it was nothing more than a normal bear, not a trace of Grimm upon it.

Footsteps behind her made her shift focus to the two figures. She found them to be two men, cloaked in furs. One holding a crude looking sword and the other two parts of a broken spear. Both men stopped and all three stared at one another. Blake sizing them up, even though she was cold she knew she could eliminate them both if she should need to. They hadn’t been able to take down the bear and she’d done it in one swift strike.

“Girl. Where are your clothes?” The one with a long brown beard asked her. The other with his sword in hand steps towards the body of the bear. She watches him examine the finishing strike.

“These are my clothes. Do you know where I am?” She asks, her hand resting carefully on her hilt. The two men exchanged a look.

“You’re in the north, the real north girl”. The bearded one answered. The real north did nothing for Blake. Though it could be Atlas, the place where Weiss is from, but the weapons seem ancient.

“Forget about that”. The one with a smaller black beard says while removing his own cloak. “Take this, you’ll freeze to death otherwise”. Blake takes it hesitantly, watching him for any movements. The man still had other fur clothing on, but his cloak was so large that when Blake had put it on she could wrap it completely around herself and then some.

Turning her nose up from the smell of it she coughed. The man laughed while the other blew a horn that made Blake jump. Still revolted by the smell of the cloak, she found herself growing warmer and mostly shielded from the cold northern winds. It didn’t take long for several more people to arrive. Mismatching furs and more crude weapons. _Why the horn? Why not message via scroll?_ She couldn’t help but wonder as the bear was slowly skinned and carved.

Blake watched with disgust as the bear was butchered. The skinless, furless carcass was chopped in pieces small enough to be carried by several different people. Some watched her and none talked to her. She stood there, still shivering as the carcass was stripped and even the bones were carried away. _What are these people?_ She wondered. _Savages? Do they really need everything?_ The sound of crunching snow behind her caught her attention.

As she rounded to face the noise, two men stood before her. One old with grey hair and a patchy beard. The other a younger man with black hair and stubble. “Our hunters tell me you killed the bear. How’s bout you come to our camp. Here, being alone means death”. The old man said, offering Blake a potential roof over her head.

“Can I have some furs made for me from the bear hide?” She asked back, she killed the beast that would have run and provided the people with food and hide, she simply wanted her own warm clothing. Clothing that didn’t stink of the man who had given her his cloak.

“You’re only a small thing. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement”. The old man spoke with an amused tone. “Hrorand. This is my son Dorrand”. He said, clapping his now revealed son on the back. Blake nodded, keeping the smelly old cloak wrapped around her.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Blake Belladonna”. With that the old man told his son to go help with the bear while he would speak to Blake. She walked beside him to their camp, asking questions and listening intently to what information he had. He didn’t seem very learned, but Blake would take any information she could about this land. She soon discovered that she wasn’t in Atlas, and perhaps not even on Remnant anymore.

* * *

** Yang **

As Yang left the swampy ground she stumbled upon a backpack, she recognised it as Ruby’s and grabbed it. The smoke further on was still ascending into the sky which was Yang’s goal, however, the bag needed investigating. Opening the top, she looked inside. “Of course you would Rubes”. She said aloud with a laugh.

Inside the bag was a whole lot of ammunition for Blake, Ruby and herself along with some dust of various kinds. Yang didn’t use dust but she knew Blake and Weiss did, her main concern was the shotgun gauntlet ammunition. Tying the bag back up she threw it on her back, slipping her arms through the straps.

She continued walking and taking in the sights. Yang wasn’t one to really let things get to her but she hadn’t seen a soul on the way towards the smoke. The sun was rising and although it wasn’t as cold as where her teammates found themselves, it wasn’t the warmest either. It took her almost an hour of walking before she found the source of the smoke.

A stone building three stories tall with turrets and chimneys. The smoke rose from them and the smell of cooking filled the air around it. She noticed horses tied to posts along with a carriage leaving down one of the roads. Taking a breath, she walked right up to the door and walked inside. It swung open easy enough, but what she found inside made her blink several times.

Wooden seats and tables with large wooden pillars and stone walls. The smell wasn’t to her liking but it wasn’t bad either. The few patrons that were there, all of whom took note of her enter. Some of their gazes lingered, not that it bothered Yang. She was used to the staring from nightclubs she’d been to, having such a figure was a gift and Yang wasn’t one to let looks bother her. She’d happily break their hands if the dared touch her in perverted ways.

Taking a seat with her back to a protruding wall in the middle of the room she waited, observing the people in the building and finding it to be similar to a bar. People ordered food and alcohol and a serving girl came out taking both to the tables. The men often remarked about her looks and some even offered to take her out back for a good time. When they got a little physical the girl looked to the inn keeper for help.

“Alright lads, let her go before I have you removed”. The woman’s voice came forth, strong and authoritative, but it only made the man holding the girl laugh. The girl looked troubled, so Yang with a sigh got to her feet and walked over. She threw the man a smile.

“How about you let her go and I’ll make you an offer”. She saw the man’s eyes trace her body. The smell the man gave off was one of a drunkard making him easy prey. The girl was released and ran to the safety of the kitchen once more.

“You gonna take her place girl?” He asked with a crocked grin, grasping at Yang who took a single step back. She gave him a small giggle and batted her eyes at him.

“How about if you beat me at an arm wrestle I’ll let you have your way with me. And if I win you give me all the money you have on you?” She’d noticed them paying mostly with copper coins and the occasional silver. She’d also learned many names and places she’d never heard before. King’s landing, Baratheon, Stark, Lannister, The Tridant, The Neck to name just a few. It confused her so she’d decided to try and earn some money, that way she could buy information if she needed to.

The man snorted loudly and moved his drink aside. His friends made some room and Yang took a seat. “Touch me and I break your fingers”. She said while shooting the man she sat next to a deathly glare.

“Hurry up blondie. I want to bend you over this table”. His crocked teeth once more flashed as he smiled. It disgusted Yang who didn’t know where she was or how much she could get away with. She moved her hand up first and then the drunk man took it. They stared one another down as the pressure began to grow.

With no signal for go and Yang found herself pushing him back slowly. It was easy, too easy, so she eased up and let him level out and get a slight advantage. She could put him out of his misery any time, but decided to exaggerate her struggle in hopes of earning more. The battle went on for nearly an entire minute longer before Yang finally slammed his hand onto the table, cheering loudly.

She held out her other hand while she nursed her “tired” arm. The man grumbled and hesitated which made Yang’s smile turn into a serious stare down. Silence filled the inn as other patrons looked at the increasingly tense situation. Until the man finally relinquished his coin purse. Yang’s smiled returned as she tossed the purse up and down, the coins inside jingling around.

“Thanks! Now I wonder what I could but with this?” She said aloud and went to stand. A loud thumb one the same table she was at made her turn around. The one responsible was much larger and even uglier than the previous.

“My turn girl. Same deal”. He put a purse of coins up, bigger than her previous winnings by twice the size. Not knowing what coins were inside she shrugged. _Better to have whatever I can get easily I suppose._ Yang nodded and cleared her throat.

“Mind if we use our left arms? My right is a little sore after that last one”. She poked out her tongue and tried to look cute. She giggled too, but the man she was facing smiled.

“Done”. With confidence in his eyes he placed his left elbow on the table and smirked. Yang felt a chill run through her but did the same. This time one of his friends counted down to start the match up. His initial reaction was fast and strong, but Yang withstood it and fought back to a neutral stance. The man grimaced while Yang smiled.

Yang could tell he was much stronger than the last, but even with her left arm she slammed his to the table and once more cheered in victory. There was laughter and other people cheering too. She was quick to grab up the purse and put them both in the front section of the bag. Three more men came to face Yang and try to get into her. They all had to beat her though and not a single one did.

Once the sixth man came and failed Yang had already made a fair amount of coin, much more than she was aiming for. But this sixth man, he wasn’t taking the loss too well and ended up grabbing the corner of the table and throwing it aside. Yang was on her feet immediately and easily predicted what the man was doing. A fist was flying right at her, untrained and influenced by booze.

With her right hand, she pushed it away. It flew to the side of her head while her left fist struck him so hard in the face that he fell over backwards, blood trickling from an obviously broken nose. His friends looked from him to Yang only to see the golden-haired brawler more than ready for a fight. It looked like a couple of them were about to take her up on the offer as they raised their fists.

“That’s enough! Get the hell out of my inn!” Came the voice of the inn keeper. Yang didn’t know if she was included in that telling off but casually grabbed her bag, now filled with coins that she’d have to count.

“That’s for the enjoyable time boys. Hope to see you all again”. A wide grin formed on her face as she went to leave.

“Hang on blondie. I didn’t say for you to leave.” Yang looked to the inn keeper and then the men who were slowly funnelling out the other door. Yang sighed once they were all gone and look back at the woman who was much older than her.

“Sorry about the mess. Name’s Yang”. Her voice normal for her and friendly too, she hadn’t meant to upset the business of someone she didn’t know and who seemed like an ok person.

“Fuck the mess. Do you know what those men were going to do to you?” The woman asked in a serious manner, her arms folded. She had dirty blonde hair frizzled to her shoulders and pale bluey-green eyes.

“Ah they were weak.” Yang made a dismissive gesture with one arm and leaned on the counter. “I’ve dealt with worse and still come out on top. That was just some easy money”. The woman looked at her with narrowed yes.

“You’re strong then?” Yang just laughed and nodded, punching one hand into the other with a grand smile. “If you’re not going anywhere for a while how’s about you work for me? I could use someone to sort out the riff-raff”.

Yang had to consider it. She knew names but nothing more. “I suppose I could. But I need to know a few things. Perhaps you can answer any questions I have and any more money I win from fools I’ll send some your way?” The older woman nodded and smiled.

“Name’s Masha Heddle. Pleased to meet such a fine young woman”. Yang smiled back as Masha told the serving girl to arrange a room for their new, short term employee. A room that was hard to access and had a hidden compartment where Yang could keep her things.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter #2: Unfamiliar lands part #2 - Team JNPR**

* * *

** Jaune **

Hauled to his feet by the woman who was taller than Jaune who stood at six-foot one inch. He was amazed by not only her height, but the power she had displayed. He hadn’t helped at all to get to his feet and a further push to his back had made him stumble forwards and nearly fall over. She didn’t say much, single word answers or “My father will decide”.

So Jaune shut his mouth and let the woman march him to the nicest looking place in a solid looking castle. Tall walls surrounded the keep of which he was directed to. Inside the woman brought him before a rather lavish chair atop a small raised platform at the head of the hall. In it sat a man years old than Jaune.

The woman pulled on his hood making Jaune stop, making a choking sound while doing so. Pulling the front of his hoody forward Jaune coughed a couple of times before letting his hands fall to his side. He wished he still had his weapons on him, but the woman had seen fit to have the sword and sheath removed.

The man on the chair remained silent, staring at Jaune for a long while and making him uncomfortable. _At least it isn’t Ozpin again._ Jaune pondered, remembering how he’d been asked in Ozpin’s office during the first few weeks of his time at Beacon.

“Who is this that you’ve brought before me my child?” The man spoke with a calm tone. Jaune made the connection that this woman who had manhandled him was this man’s daughter. Her glare let him know that he should answer since she’d not asked him any questions on the way back.

“I’m Jaune. Nice to…” He was cut off by the woman who swatted the back of his head. He’d realised what was coming but her speed surprised him.

“You are talking to my Lord father Selwyn Tarth, Lord of Evenfall Hall and the head of house Tarth”. Jaune cowered beneath the woman’s booming voice and look of anger. _What did I do?_

“Settle down Brienne. Perhaps this boy is from some place where there are no Lords. Or perhaps he is just a fool”. The man Selwyn’s gaze hardened as he spoke the last word. “Tell us boy. Where are you from?”

Jaune seeing the opportunity to explain himself took it with both hands. He started with his name, first and last before continuing on to inform them both that he was educated. This was immediately tested with the Lord ordering a servant to bring in some parchment along with ink and a quill. Jaune snorted in amusement, but was quickly reminded he was here and weaponless. _Stupid woman, taking my sword while I slept._

He made quick work of writing both of his names with linked letters. Brienne was the one to look over the parchment. She turned her head up at it, but once her father inquired she reluctantly admitted that he could write. He then read out part of a book and was quickly told to stop. Showing them both he was educated he was then asked to further explain himself.

He told them where he was from, Vale of the world of Remnant. Much like Ruby’s encounter with Lady Arryn of the Vale, Jaune too experienced questions and revelations that make his skin crawl. They had no name for their world and even showed him the most current map they had. On it there seemed to be lands stretching north, south and across a sea and forever eastwards until the map ended with the eastern continent still not wholly explored. Or at least not on the map owned by the Tarth family.

Still, it was enough to make Jaune worry. “What about creatures of Grimm? Do they roam the lands outside of walled settlements?” Again, the father and daughter denied knowledge of such things. _Grimm aren’t here and the shapes of the land masses are…_ A troubled look grew on Jaune’s face, fear welling up inside the young huntsman in training.

“I’m on a different world… aren’t I?” He asked hollowly. The Tarth’s exchanged a look and Selwyn Tarth finally got to his feet and approached Jaune.

“That may be so. Can you fight?” He asked with his daughter Brienne giving him a stern look. Jaune shrugged.

“I am… or was a huntsman in training. I wasn’t very good but my friend helped me improve a lot”. He smiled remembering Pyrrha and her teachings. _I wonder if she’s still on Remnant. I hope so._

“What is a huntsman?” Brienne inquired while stepping slightly in front of her father. It was obvious she didn’t trust Jaune. It was fair since he was an outsider and claimed to be able to fight.

“Huntsmen… or Huntresses are elite warriors dedicated to fighting the creatures of [Grimm](http://rwby.wikia.com/wiki/Grimm) and upholding the peace of the world”. Jaune said with pride and finally lifted his head for them to see this pride.

“Huntresses, so women can become elite warriors on your world?” Brienne asked, now a lot more intrigued with this revelation. Her father didn’t want her to be trained to become a knight as she was a woman. But thanks to her own doing, defiance and willingness to fight the boys, her father surrendered to her and ordered her trained how to fight properly.

Jaune nodded and met her eyes. “At Beacon, a school that trains future Huntsmen and Huntresses I was on a team with one other male and two females”. He rubbed the back of his beck and laughed. “If I’m being honest, the girls were better than me and Ren”. This made Brienne’s eyes bulge with joy, it was like she’d won something important.

“Father. I would like to test out the boy’s skills in combat. Perhaps he could be of use”. Lord Selwyn Tarth looked at his daughter with narrowed eyes. Brienne didn’t look away for an instant and her father once again, broke and allowed her to do as she pleased.

Brienne was quick to call in some extra guards. Wearing the colours of their house, armour stained a bronzed and golden colour lined the outside of the hall. Jaune caught a flash of white, his sword and sheath thrown at him by Brienne as a test of reflexes. Jaune fixed it to his waist and drew his blade. A sharp sound filled the room as the two warriors looked to one another.

Jaune activated the sheath and it popped out into a shield. The two yellow crescent moons on the white backdrop that is his shield. Jaune held his sword at the ready and moved his shield in front of his body. He could see Brienne sizing him up, however he didn’t have time to do the same as she came at him.

Jaune struck first but was warded off by Brienne’s own shield. He ducked under her sword as it came horizontally, but was caught with a hard elbow to his face. He stumbled back only a little and whispers started from some of the onlooking guards. Even Brienne looked surprised, but Jaune began his counter attack.

Performing a basic flurry of sword strikes ending in a shield bash. Brienne block and parried, but when Jaune performed the bash she countered with her one of her own and the sheer might of it sent him tumbling backwards onto the ground. She moved quickly, however Jaune managed to get to his feet first, avoiding being made to yield.

The fight continued for a short time more, Brienne outmatching Jaune and testing his skills until she held the tip of his blade to his throat. Jaune knew he still had aura left to use, but didn’t see the point in being humiliated any more than what he already was. He gave up and Lord Tarth called the match in favour of his daughter.

Brienne’s swollen sized lips formed into a smile. “I think we have use of him father. And he said he was in training, perhaps we can continue to teach him”. Jaune gave a nervous smile as Lord Tarth vocally agreed with his daughter. A few of the guards gave a small clap. _At least I have a roof over my head._

* * *

** Nora **

Unfortunately for Nora, there were City Watch members around the house. And although the house had collapsed from natural causes they drew their blades on the poor girl and demanded she surrender peacefully. The reason they claimed, she was the one responsible for ruining the house. There was no protest from the common folk around, but Nora knew she wasn’t in the wrong, she’d woken up buried beneath the rubble, protected in enough room to swing her hammer.

As the first man approached her, Nora decided to call for their commander. “I didn’t do it! I want to see your boss”. A few of the City Watch men looked at one another before their commanding officer ordered them to restrain the girl. One brave, or stupid man tried for Nora’s hands. She quickly moved to the side and pushed him away. She was strong for such a small girl and gave the guard bit too much of a push.

He fell onto some of the debris and cried out in pain. Nora couldn’t see any blood and wondered how he could be hurt with his aura. She’d forgotten that no everyone had aura on Remnant, and the thought that she wasn’t even on Remnant hadn’t occurred to her yet. Their commander roared for her to be forcefully restrained at which Nora bolted. She’d been in trouble before, but never restrained. The idea of being tied up scared her more than she wanted to admit.

Nora ran through the city with the guards chasing her for a time. Bells tolled in warning but the guards she came across didn’t see her as a threat, more of an oddity with her bright pink and white clothing. She whizzed past them with a smile, many seconds pasted before the guards chasing her found the others and informed them.

And so the cycle continued, Nora running and the guards falling further and further behind her. Eventually she was so far gone that the bells ringing in warning were rather distant. This made Nora feel much safer, although looking around she found herself completely and utterly lost. She scanned her surroundings finding them filthy.

There were smells she recognised and others she didn’t. Noises of hammers on anvils and whores moaning. The latter sound making her cheeks flush red. Briskly walking away from such indecent noises she found herself at a wall. Grumbling, Nora decided to follow it. Although easy going and energetic she was feeling unusually not like herself. The chase had worried her and with no clue about who was in charge or where she was, she was beginning to fret.

She reached into her vest pocket to grab her scroll only to find it missing. Patting herself down she rolled her eyes. “Oh man, now how will Ren find me”. A memory of Ren looking for her in their youth surfaced. It was after they’d just met, after the disaster of the village she was at, Ren’s home. She’d wandered off to find some food in the forest because she’d grown hungry and Ren wasn’t listening.

She had some early success in finding some berries then a fruit tree with a low hanging branch and an apple just out of reach. It was there that she had her little accident. There was a river running alongside the tree and as Nora reached for the apple, her foot slipped resulting in the bomber falling into the river and being carried away.

She fought her way to the shore, but she was cold and alone. It took Ren less than hour to find her that time and the scolding he gave her wasn’t scary at all. Instead it helped to strengthen the bond to her best friend, a bond that kept the two close, even if they were opposites in terms of volume. Ren calm and calculated and Nora loud and direct.

She was lost in her memory for longer than she thought and was brought back to the present by the sound of several pairs of boots. Nora rounded on them and reached for her weapon. A young man still older than her raised his hands and smiled. She noticed he was well groomed compared to what she’d seen so far.

“Hello young lady. I haven’t seen that kind of clothing about. Are you from across the Narrow Sea?” He was dressed well and in mostly green, his hair was jet black and although it was short it reminded her a little of Ren, minus the magenta streak.

“The Narrow Sea? Never heard of it”. Nora answered. Once more confusion took hold of those she was speaking towards. The man’s smile broke for but a moment, returning to maintain his calm demeanour.

“Well that’s nothing major”. He stepped forwards and waved the guards away. They remained stationary with their hands on the hilts of the swords they carried. Nora saw a stag painted black on a yellow backdrop added to the cloth the guards wore, it was even on the clothing the cleaner man wore. “Would you like to accompany me to somewhere a little more… hospitable?”

Nora nodded happily, a smile wide on her face and stepped closer to the man and held her hand out. “Nora”. The man smiled, finding the actions and manners of the small orange-haired girl odd yet friendly enough not to arouse to much suspicion. She also learned that his name was Renly, Lord Renly Baratheon.

“That’s a cool name, the Lord bit seems a bit funny though”. She replied with a giggle. Her carefree attitude and charming innocence convinced Renly to bite his tongue. He led Nora all the way to the Red Keep where he ran into a fellow member of the small council who handed him a sealed scroll from Storm’s End.

“Well it looks like I have business to attend at home. Varys my dear friend, would you please look after Ms Nora. A most… peculiar guest”. He gave the other man, bald and fat a bow before leaving. A quick apology was all she got before her newest friend disappeared. She stood looking at the one Renly had called Varys and waited.

“Welcome to King’s Landing Ms Nora, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Nora found him friendly enough, kind too with an odd way of speaking. _It’s like I’m some kind of royalty._ Giggling, Nora shrugged and revealed to the man that she didn’t even know where she was. The man seemed taken aback and offered to tell her where she was, he also told her that the man she was previously with was the younger brother to the King of the seven kingdoms.

None of it made sense to Nora, she came from a place where there wasn’t any kings and governments issued the laws. She knew what a king was of course, history studies on Remnant told of ancient kings of old. She was going to turn Varys down until he brought up that he was going to be having some sweets for his lunch, and at that her stomach rumbled.

“Can I have lunch with you then? We could talk while we eat?” Varys gave a small bow and gestured for Nora to walk alongside him. Nora didn’t know who he was or why he was helping a stranger, but she figured he wasn’t a bad guy. Just like Renly, Varys was kind enough to offer her some help since she was lost and confused. It was during their talk that Varys really took an interest in Nora.

* * *

** Pyrrha **

Smoke rose from within the partially wooden walled settlement. Pyrrha had walked a short distance and wasn’t particularly thirsty, but wouldn’t say no either. She looked around finding only small scraps of green among the vast sandy desert. She began to wonder how the people in the settlement survived. That was before she seen two shapes rushing towards her.

Pyrrha, not knowing what or who the shapes were reached and drew her sword, Milo in xiphos form. She grabbed her shield too and readied herself. The shapes grew closer and more easily seen. Horses and men with bronzed skin like Pyrrha’s armour. Both had dark hair and once they were close enough to see, the colour and shape of their eyes surprised her.

Dark, almond-shaped eyes that were unlike anything she’d seen before. The swords they carried were strange to her eyes, curved and crescent shaped they barely resembled Ruby’s scythe. They spoke in a strange tongue and Pyrrha didn’t understand a word. It sounded to her like they were threatening her, but as she prepared to defend herself they did the same in terms of preparing to attack.

She didn’t really want to fight these shirtless men with well-toned bodies, but she’d defend herself if need be. Yet there was another option, she hadn’t spoken yet and there was a chance they could be bilingual. “Sorry, I don’t speak whatever language that is. Do you per chance speak mine?” The men noticeably relaxed at hearing her voice which she kept soft and calm.

There was more language of which she didn’t understand from one of them, the more muscular looking one who pointed to the village with his weapon. _Is he wanting me to go to the village?_ She asked herself before the smaller rider took off. The other continued to speak and gesture towards the village and Pyrrha began to make her way there as directed.

She kept her distance from the rider so neither he nor she could strike out at the other as they made their way to the village. Entering it she found small huts and tents erected as housing. They were old looking yet sturdy enough even to her untrained eyes. The children all ran about looking at her, pointing and talking in that strange tongue.

She smiled at the children knowing they were naught but innocent beings, but as she saw some warriors and their drawn weapons she gripped Milo and Akouo tightly. The air was mixed in the village, tension was high as a young pale skinned female with crimson hair had emerge out of nowhere, out a storm that had raged the night before. Yet there was also a lot of curiosity because of her looks too.

The smaller rider appeared walking towards her with an old woman by his side. Her skin was bronze and her eyes almond shaped, yet her hair was greyed with age and one eye blind. The elderly woman looked Pyrrha over and circled around her. Pyrrha wasn’t took concerned about the woman checking her over as the men from the village looked tense and on edge.

Feeling her arms being prodded and her armour taped, Pyrrha smiled. She guessed these people hadn’t seen someone like her around. “Excuse me. Can you speak my language?” She asked the woman who was examining the end of her crimson hair.

“Yes, that I can young lady”. Her voice was frail and soft, but it made Pyrrha smile.

“Can you tell me where I am and what they are saying?” The woman nodded and took her hand leading her inside a tent. She was instructed to sit as a man and a small child came into the tent. The two older people exchange words in that foreign language while the child simply stared at Pyrrha.

She smiled at the child and he smiled back. “You are on the inner part of what people call the Dothraki sea. A vast grassland in which the Dothraki live and pillage.” _Dothraki? And they pillage._ Pyrrha swallowed. She remembered the amount so sand outside and frowned.

“What about the sand? And what are Dothraki?” She was lectured at length about what the Dothraki were. The old Dothraki woman explained to Pyrrha that they are horse-mounted warriors in [Essos](http://gameofthrones.wikia.com/wiki/Essos) which is the name of the continent she found herself. They inhabit the vast central plains of Essos making it difficult to live with the constant threat of a khalasar passing by and spotting new or unprotected villages. Their bond with horses is such that Dothraki are said to be born, fight, and die in the saddle, a lifestyle that Pyrrha found interesting yet odd. _I can’t really judge. I’ve been training and fighting ever since I was young_. Dothraki warriors were commonly referred to as horse lords by outsiders, or so the old woman spoke.

Never having heard the word Essos before it gave Pyrrha further questions to ask. The woman was kind enough to answer everything question she had. The landmass names, the world name, if she’d heard of Remnant and the creatures of Grimm. Did she know what an aura was and what their technology was like. The questions she had continued for hours on end as Pyrrha tried to get every ounce of information she could.

That was until the adult male spoke in that tongue again, cutting her off and rambling to the old woman. It was time for Pyrrha to be questioned and again it was in depth. Her name in full, where she was from, if she had bled yet and if she was willing to become a Dothraki woman. His questioning made Pyrrha feel sick, as if she was a tool to be sold and used, it would not do. The four-years running Regional Champion of Mistral was not about to become a tool or idle wife for this man or his tribe, especially since she was so uncommon with this world.

She’d chosen to live her own life and make her own decisions, hence why she’d opted to become a huntress. She denied the offer of becoming the wife of a Dothraki and refused to marry anyone in the village. She’d heard that some high society families in Remnant did it and it was very common in the old times on Remnant too. Going from what she had gathered she figured she was somewhere else entirely.

The man stood up and pulled out his blade. He spoke harshly and spat on the floor, his saliva mixing with the sand that the rugs had failed to cover. Pyrrha look to the woman who was tiring. She explained that he was challenging her to a fight since she was carrying a sword and shield along with wearing armour.

Accepting his challenge, she followed him outside. The sun had already begun to sink which surprised her. The time spent in the tent and talking had taken far longer than she thought. People gathered around the two warriors, a circle formed giving them a limited space to move. Pyrrha knew it was a serious fight and if she lost she’d probably have to do whatever he wished.

Pyrrha opted to only use Milo xiphos and let him make the first move. It was overly slow as he began to strike at her. Each time he pulled his weapon back, giving Pyrrha enough time to easily read his planned motion. She kept dodging the man and studying his fighting style. It was raw natural ability. His swings were strong but wild and had little control. She almost danced around the strikes causing the onlookers to begin yelling. She didn’t understand them but could tell by the tone there was much anger.

It wasn’t much of a contest as far as Pyrrha was concerned so she ended it with ease. Touching the blade the man used she could have used her semblance but felt she didn’t need that help. She finished it by moving behind him and bringing the edge of her blade to his throat. Silence followed this action and she looked around finding the old woman.

“Ask if he surrenders”. It took a few moments but the man dropped his blade allowing Pyrrha to let him go. He nodded his head in her direction and cut his braided hair off. She understood it as a sign they’ve lost, thanks to the long talk they had.

They talked in Dothraki and soon people begin moving around. The old woman made her way to Pyrrha’s side and smiled. “You are strong. Strongest person in village. They prepare a feast in your honour for sparing the leader”. Pyrrha bowed in respect and the woman took some of her crimson hair once more. _Was he really the strongest one here?_ She wondered, thinking back on what the woman had told her she got worried. The Dothraki hordes, the khalasar would surely contain much stronger opponents.

“We have never seen hair so bright red. You must be a sign of something to come”. Pyrrha giggled and straightened herself, gently pulling her hair from the woman’s grasp. She had something she needed to ask, needed to learn.

“Can you teach me how to speak in Dothraki? I’d rather use my own voice than rely on you the entire time”. The two females shared a long stare down before the Dothraki woman smiled and nodded. Pyrrha started learning that evening.

* * *

** Ren **

Knowing that a wall must have a gate somewhere along it, Ren set out alongside the great structure. He had never seen or heard of such a thing in Remnant, but that made it no less impressive. “Only the flying Grimm could get past this thing… How thick is it anyway?” He asked to no one. Talking aloud was just a way for him to feel a little more at ease. Although he was a quiet soul, having no one around, no noise save for the birds in an unknown place made him feel anxious.

The snow crunched underfoot as he walked along. The sun was beating down but his clothing couldn’t keep the cool breeze from piercing him. Goosebumps spread over his skin as he rubbed his upper arms. Black birds, crows flew overhead. Ren reached for his scroll only to find it missing too. Not one to get frustrated easily or become overly emotional without good reason he kept his composure and pressed on, continuing to follow along the base of the extremely large wall of ice.

Hours passed along with sightings of animal large and small. Birds, wolves, a bear even. Ren had to use his semblance to avoid detection as the wolves caught wind of him. Grimm were drawn to fear and his semblance was able to cover the fear and calm oneself or those he targeted with his semblance. He tried it on the wolves on a whim and it seemed to work, the wolves lost his scent and all he had to do was remain still and quiet, and pray the wind kept him downwind.

The wolves soon lost interest and ran off somewhere else, allowing him to continue. Chilled to the bone it was almost nightfall by the time Ren came upon something jutting out from the side of the wall. There was smoke meaning life and it reinvigorated Ren who was considering finding somewhere to sleep for the night. A hollowed-out tree would have worked, wood was plentiful and he could start a fire with what he had.

But that was all slipping from his mind as he approached the dull and dark looking buildings. Approaching them he found wooden structures mounted atop rock and stone bases. The stonework looked old and shoddy, his hometown was built with the most talented and tidy looking means that put this group of buildings to shame.

With no entrance from the way he came, Ren rounded the small fortified buildings and found a large wooden gate and a road that lead to it. He walked forwards and into the light the torches were giving off even with the sun still not quite set. For the first time since his awakening in this new world, a voice called to him that was human. Not some growling or squawking of a bird, but the cautious tone of a male human.

“Who goes there?” Ren just stared up at the voice clad in black furs and leather.

“A creature of Grimm”. He answers while feeling annoyed with being questioned when he was clearly human.

“What is your business at Castle Black?” _Castle Black? What a strange name._ Ren looked to the castle over not thinking overly much of the run down and none castle looking cluster of tight knit buildings with a large wooden gate being the only entrance or exit.

“I’m lost. Would I be allowed in and sheltered until I can find which direction I need to go?” He yelled back. There was silence for a while and the man in the small gatehouse disappeared. A cold gust of wind made Ren’s teeth chatter before the low creaking of the wooden gates sounded before him.

Ren walked forwards assuming his request for shelter was granted only to find himself walking towards a wall of men dressed in black. Their furs were all similar, black, and faded, yet warm looking and thick. Their faces ranged too, pale to dark skin, heights that varied but they all had the same look on their faces. One of staunch men who would not take any shit from an outsider which of course Ren knew he was.

There were a few older men looking him over quietly and with calm expressions on their faces while some of the younger ones looked at him strangely. One was smiling and trying to hold in laughter. Ren had no choice but to look himself over. There was nothing out of the ordinary with his attire that he could see, yet it was very different compared to what the men of The Night’s Watch were used to seeing.

“Look at this boy. Wandered here with nothing but his fine clothes.” A man with grey streaks of hair running where it used to be black. His face was hard and his eyes black. His eyes alone able to send chills down new recruits spines. But Ren just looked the man up and down.

“Boy? Don’t you mean girl. Look at his long hair and that fucking pink bit”. Another one joins in making the one previously holding back laughter, snort loudly. Others joined in the laughter while Ren looked at the man calling him a girl.

“It’s actually magenta”. He replied, correcting the man and stopping the laughter. The oldest one there grunts, a smile dawning on his old wrinkled skin. The top front of his head was balding while his hair had changed to white which only made him show his age. His figure was still one of strength, broad shoulders accompanied by a gaze that hadn’t left Ren since he’d arrived through the gate.

“Shut it boy. I bet you don’t even know how to hold a sword”. One of the men started to pull his sword from its sheath. Ren instinctively jumped back to create some space to move and was about to draw Stormflower, his dual SMGs when the old man called a halt to their actions. Ren stared at the man who started drawing first, he learned then that he old one was in charge, and that the raven perched on his shoulder squawked loudly.

“Ser Alliser. Take these men back and have them fed. I’ll deal with our… Guest”. There was mumbling but none went against the old man’s orders and soon enough Ren found himself alone and shivering while looking up at the man. “Come. We’ll get you a cloak, I hope you like black”. The joke wasn’t lost on Ren, but he was hardly in the sense for humour as he followed the man up some stairs and into one of the many buildings.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter #3: Unfamiliar lands part #3 – CNYRN**

* * *

** Cardin **

The elder man who’d approached him and to a great extent intimidated him, asked Cardin only a few questions. If he knew who he was, the answer was no. If he knew where he was, the answer was no. If he knew what continent he was on, the answer was no. If he supported the king, to which the answer was, “There is no King in Vale. A government rules over the people and the military protected the boarders”.

The man then told Cardin who is was, where they were, what continent they were on, and that he was sworn to serve the King who sat on the Iron Throne and ruled over the Seven Kingdoms. Cardin knew there were only four on Remnant and thought the man lying to his face, he ended up laughing, thinking it was all someone trying to play a joke on him. But the man’s hard face and unyielding gaze soon made it clear he was being dead serious.

Cardin was escorted into the castle known as Casterly Rock which was located near the edge of a cliff on a rocky promontory overlooking the Sunset Sea. Cardin sniggered at the name of the sea. _They named it because the sun sets in the west. Morons._ The castle overlooked the major city of Lannisport, a seaport city also ruled by the Lannisters as Cardin had learned was the family name of the old, stern looking man.

He was made know that a major goldmine was located under Casterly Rock. Gold made Cardin smile, even on Remnant it would still bring in a lot of money, but as he thought about ways he could go about exploiting it he was led to what he felt was a training area. The man leading him was referred to as Lord Tywin Lannister.

 _The old man is a Lord? Then he’s rich, right?_ Cardin asks himself as the men around the Tywin seemed to be both fearful and respectful. Even though he was older, he stood tall and slender, his green eyes flecked with gold held that stern gaze Cardin had first seen him with. Swords and shields were handed around while men in red and gold armour surrounded the place.

Golden lions were painted on the red shields and certain men were pointed out by another who seemed to hold some authority. He wondered what was happening for a short time, before the man revealed to be the master-at-arms instructed his men, one by one, to fight and defeat, test the unknown boy’s ability since he’d already injured two other Lannister soldiers.

The soldiers took the challenge with delight, focused on injuring the boy and avenging their injured comrades. Cardin stood at an amazing six feet six inches tall, he towered over all of the soldiers like he’d done to his classmates at Beacon Academy. He could see the fear that some of the soldiers had as he slowly began working his way through the first enthusiastic fighter, then another, and another.

His mace was oddly made and the soldiers looked at it with interest and fear. He’d already broken bones and drew the blood from several soldiers. Another loud crack marked the sound of an arm breaking .Even those with shields weren’t much better off as the tall boy would sometimes hold his mace with two hands and swing it with great strength.

Tywin was watching the boy eliminate man after man with ease. It got to the point where his master-at-arms asked for the testing to stop as they’d already lost over a dozen men. Tywin just ordered them to attack in twos, then threes. Tywin even added a few silver stags as more incentive to beat the boy. It gave the men more confidence if only for a time, and did reveal something interesting to the Lannister Lord.

The boy started to take hits in the places where his silver-grey armour didn’t cover, which was a fair amount of him. And every time, Tywin noticed that there wasn’t a scratch to be left or any small amount of blood. It was like he was protected by some sort of magic. A smile came to his face as he started to think of ways he could use the boy who could either be a great ally, or annoying and potentially dangerous enemy.

“That’s enough. Thank you men, but your assistance will no longer be required”. Tywin dismissed the soldiers who were still ok and the master-at-arms ordered them to take the injured to the infirmary to see what could be done to help them recover. Cardin watched from where he finished, his mace resting over his left shoulder as he met eyes with the Lord of Casterly Rock.

“Had enough of me breaking your men. I thought they’d give me more of a challenge”. Although Cardin was considered a fool by some of those at Beacon, he’d been quick to realise none of the men he’d fought had an aura to protect them.

Tywin now moved closer, even he at six feet three inches tall was made small. Cardin’s shoulders were broader, his head larger, not to mention he was much younger and still had growing to do in terms of strength, skill, and knowledge. Something that Tywin would use to his advantage if the boy chose to follow his orders.

“How would you feel about swearing your fealty to house Lannister? I can promise gold and eventually a title and land if you prove your worth”. Cardin slowly started to smile and thought about it for a moment. Remembering when he’d denied knowing anything about where he was or his situation, Tywin had been serious about letting him know that he hadn’t heard where Cardin was from and informed him of where he was now. Cardin started to struggle, he didn’t completely believe the old man, but the sound of being paid and receiving land had him interested.

“And what would I need to do after swearing fealty? Do I become your servant and fetch your meals and tidy up after you?” He snorted and shook his head. The answer would be a resounding no if that was the case. Luckily for him, it was not.

“You’ll become a Knight, follow my orders without question and earn honour for both yourself and my house”. Tywin didn’t really care about honour too much, so long as this boy Cardin helped him to make sure his legacy was remembered all the clearer and that his family name remained feared and respected.

“And you’ll give me gold and make sure I’m fed?” Cardin asked back, his lack of respect was noted by the Lord.

“You’ll buy your own food and armour. And you will refer to me as my Lord. I will have another knight train you so that you can speak and respect your superiors the proper way”. Tywin waited and for the boy who eventually agreed to swear fealty. Although he didn’t know the words or how to go about being knighted.

“A fellow knight will teach you the words. Be ready to swear your fealty to me when I call for you next”. Cardin watched the old man walk away. _I suppose I should wait for this knight fellow._ A smirk came to his face as he waited. _It’s going to be easy to make a name for myself against these weaklings._ Laughing to himself a few of the soldiers looked at him with concern before he glared back at them.

* * *

** Neptune **

Fighting off several of the men and women while taking a few hits and injuring many of them, Neptune soon had them hesitating to strike. Each time they though they landed a hit the blue-haired boy with a trident just reeled backwards or sideways without a scratch on him. Some accused him of being dead, others that he was cursed, one called him a God and was slain by his fellows for such blasphemy.

The people of the Iron Islands worshipped the Drowned God for the majority, and calling the boy a God was a great offense. Neptune was shocked that they would cut down one of their own with no apparent question about it. The men and women were still focussed on killing him, he could see the murderous intent in their eyes and it frightened him.

He’d dealt with members of the White Fang, but these were people who he’d already discovered didn’t have aura. _I could just shoot them all, then I could…_ Looking around he remembered where he was, an island with naught around but rocks, ships, and water, so much water that he already felt queasy.

Transforming his weapon into its rifle form he lines up one of them. “I’m warning you! I’ll shoot! Don’t come any closer!” His voice wasn’t very threatening, it was clear confused about actually doing it. He’d never killed anyone before, even in self-defence. The closest he’d gotten to killing anyone was a sparring match with other students at Haven. And just before when he’d witnessed them kill one of their own, his stomach churned.

“Shoot? What in the hells does that mean boy?” A man shouted at him from the left.

“I reckon he’s a mad man. But I want that thing he’s got”. A woman spoke to his right.

“Give it ‘ere ya little cunt!” Another man said as he stepped forwards, his sword raised and his eyes, dilated black. Neptune froze for a second before pulling the trigger. A bluish spark shot forth and hit the man. The sword hit the stones beneath him and the man convulsed briefly before falling to the ground, his blood beginning to seep onto the rocks and flow do the shallow crevices before pooling in an indentation.

Three more rushed Neptune and as he fired of round after round, the hesitation he felt earlier had given away to his will to survive. In the end four people, three males and a female were sprawled over the rocks that were the battlefield they’d chased Neptune on. Their arms and legs twisted in strange ways as they fell. Their now lifeless bodies already beginning to weigh on Neptune’s mind.

The others who were fighting him before took a step back now. The fear they showed was clear enough for anyone to see. Neptune’s dark blue eyes showed the repulsion he already felt for what he’d done. He’d taken four lives and would have taken more if they’d continued to press him. _Dear Oum… What have I done?... T-They made me do it…. I-It’s their fault!_ She tried to tell himself internally.

His hands and arms, his whole body was shaking as he looked at the corpses he’d created. He felt like throwing up, he felt like running away. But he couldn’t leave, he was trapped on this island along with people that wanted to kill him. The ironborn took a further step as he slowly met a few pairs of eyes. His weapon causing a few to flee, crying out that he wielded magic that killed me without touching them.

They were wrong in a sense, He had killed them without physically touching them, but it wasn’t magic. To Neptune it made perfect sense. The bullets had hit their targets and the shuddering the bodies did was because of the electrical discharge his weapon applied to the bullets. Still he hadn’t expected it to do that, to drop them each in a mere couple of shots each.

He was held in place by those who remained behind while one ran off to fetch someone to deal with the situation. None spoke to him, but they all whispered to one another at some point. Swords, axes, maces, shields, and even a couple of bows. All at the ready, all waiting for him to move. Neptune could tell his Aura had fallen a little. Their attacks caught him by surprise and several hit him because of how they mobbed him at the start.

He licked his lips tasting the salt that the waves had been throwing at him. He hated water, he feared it and being surrounded by it and people who wanted him dead. It was a feeling he’d never felt before, a feeling that had him covered in a cold sweat as he waited anxiously for the unknown to come. Death or life, pain or pleasure, the latter of both seeming more probable.

Gulls flew by yet Neptune didn’t follow them. He could hear their squawks but had his life under threat. Then after a time, minutes or an hour he didn’t know. To him it felt like he’d been frozen in place while everything around him moved slowly. A horse came into view and on it another warrior, another female who approached with without a hint of fear.

The woman had long legs and black hair cut short like a man’s. As she got close Neptune raised his weapon in gun form to which there were cries of anger and worry. Yet the woman with wind-chafed skin didn’t react at all. _She wasn’t here… she didn’t see what I did to those… her friends._ He assumes they were, not knowing this woman was the heir to the island he was on and those around them.

“So you’re the kid who killed my men.” She looked at the unknown object Neptune had pointed at her. “With this thing right? I called the man who told me he was mad. Let’s see if it can…. Move into different shapes and I’ll consider what he said true”. Neptune notes that her nose looked too big and sharp for her thin face, which even though looked a little worn from the salt of the seas, was still attractive.

* * *

** Yatsuhashi **

Yatsuhashi found himself surrounded by guards wearing breastplate armour, pauldrons cover the shoulders and armpits, vambraces covering the forearms and elbows yet still allowing for movement. The armour was a shining steel, yet the sigil that was sown into the green banners was a golden rose. He found it odd, but many of the families and students at Beacon had emblems, sigils themselves.

Velvet his teammate had a heart with wires wrapped around hers, while his team leader Coco had a crosshair. He figured the emblems there belonged to whoever owned the fine castle he was seated in front of. It was warm yet not so hot that it made him uncomfortable, but he could see many of the guards sweating beneath the armour and gambeson.

They all had swords strapped to their hips. Not big one’s like Yatsuhasi’s, but smaller and lighter ones. He couldn’t help but thinking how many of them he could take out, although he quickly decided not to underestimate them since he’d never seen them in action.

The sound of heavy footsteps made him turn. Towards him flanked by several guards a man was walking. The man was much shorter than Yatsuhashi, and much rounded in the mid-section. Yatsuhashi stood at seven feet tall, athletic-looking with shaved-short black hair and tanned skin. The plump man walking towards him was a little under six feet tall and was visibly much older, the greys that speckled his spade shaped beard giving it away.

The man in his lavish green tunic and golden cloak that was ill fitting stopped before him. His brown eyes looked over the towering young man before him while Yatsuhashi’s own brown eyes gazed over the smaller man before taking more interest in the men in armour. He had no idea this fat man was in charge and in fact owned the castle before him.

“Good gods, look at you. How old are you my giant brown guest?” Yatsuhashi just looked down at the man who had red cheeks and was sweating slightly. He considered himself tanned, not brown.

“Nineteen.” There was a pause as the youth of the giant before him only served to amaze the round man. “Who are you anyway? And where am I?”

“Nineteen.” He looked around to his guards, some of which wore very sceptical faces. “My boy, or rather, young man. You are in the Reach, the most fertile lands of Westeros and I am Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South”. Yatsuhashi nodded, taking in what he was told and wondered, where the hell he was.

The next few minutes they remained standing, Lord Mace Tyrell answering questions and then asking some. Yatsuhashi learned much of what the others had, while Mace Tyrell learned that Yatsuhashi fancied himself a competent warrior. A student of the sword for many years, yet he longed to test the towering boy in a trial against some of his finest men, potentially even his second and third sons.

“How would you like to test yourself against some of my men? I would like to see your abilities for myself.” Mace offered with a smile, he was already giving orders and the names of the men he wanted assembled.

“No. I will fight when I need to, or when I want to train.” Mace looked agitated being turned down by such a young man.

“Do you not know who I am? Who the Tyrells are?” Yatsuhashi shook his head.

“Lord is title we did not have or at least that I am not aware we had in Vale. I would listen if you were one of my teachers of someone I respected.” Mace puffed up, his cheeks going even redder as the boy disrespected him in earshot and sight of his men.

“Perhaps if you were even slightly educated about the ways of our world, you would have more than your intimidation to rely on.” Yatsuhashi looked down with a frown that made Mace slightly regret his choice of words. The guards flanking him were quick to reach for their swords.

The gentle sound of tapping approaches. He guards knew to part and make room while Mace continued to glare up at the beast before him. Slowly but surely a younger man wearing similar clothing approached. He had a cane in his hand and Yatsuhashi noticed that he was using it to aid him in walking a great deal. _An old man and now a cripple. This is a strange place._

“Father, why don’t you leave our guest with me.” The younger, crippled man said in a manner that showed his father respect. Mace huffed and nodded,

“Careful my boy, he’s not very well educated. I suggest you have guards with you as his fealty has not been given or pleaded as far as I know.” With that Mace departed with a small huff. Neither Yatsuhashi nor the cripple said a word for a time, only when faint singing was heard did the cripple introduce himself.

“Willas Tyrell, first born son to Lord Mace Tyrell, the man you were previously disrespecting.” Yatsuhashi didn’t give off any emotion. He just stared at the man who was holding and leaning on his cane. “My father called you uneducated. Do his words hold any truth?”

“Your father’s words were ill-founded. Reading and writing skills are basic and provided for nearly every child from my world”. Willas caught his reference to his world and questioned him. The two went into a little depth and soon Willas invited Yatsuhashi to his study where the two could talk more in private.

The entire way Willas didn’t do anything to make Yatsuhashi feel threatened or suspicious of his actions. Although the entire way to his study was spent in silence with the guards they passed, staring at the giant following the crippled future Lord of Highgarden. He was lead up a small flight of stairs and into a room that was filled with books, maps, and other odds and ends.

A hawk sat on a wooden perch by a window. A hound barked as the Tyrell lead Yatsuhashi inside. _He has a bird and a dog in his study? What an interesting man._ “Please, take a seat.” And so, he did. Taking a seat and testing it to be sure it could hold his much larger frame. “Feel free to ask for anything. However, in return I will be asking things as well and I expect honest answers”.

“Of course. I am relying on your honesty to help given my current situation too.” With both of them appearing to respect one another and expecting the other to be honest, they began to converse. Yatsuhashi asking for an accurate location in the world, Willas provided maps of Westeros and Essos. Having seen the world of Remnant and knowing there were no large landmasses like either of those let to discover, Yatsuhashi tried to accept where he was.

Willas tested his education and general knowledge of fighting. Again, like the others tested Yatsuhashi passed easily in reading, writing, and mathematics. The Lord Tyrell was clearly impressed with his knowledge and pressed him as to where he studied. Signal and Beacon Academies for Huntsmen and Huntresses.

Yatsuhashi found their exchange enlightening and after a long while Willas offered to have him tested and if he wanted, give him a place at Highgarden as his own personal knight. There would be a few trials he’d have to pass or at least prove he was able to learn, grasp the basics. _Money and food will be necessary in a new world. Perhaps working… swearing fealty to one of these… great houses is the way to go about securing my future._

“I accept your offer and will participate in the trials.” The man before him smiled and got to his feet. The trials would begin that day, the first of which was to be a test of arms against a few knights. Although Yatsuhashi had told his father no, Willas had given him an offer of support in terms of things he would need to survive, and he liked the son much more than the father so accepting and taking orders from someone he’d already started to respect would be easier for him.

* * *

** Reese **

A black stag on a yellow backdrop spread all over the castle Reese hand learned was Storm’s end. The emblem, banner, sigils as the castellan called them, wavered in the winds on the outside of the drum tower. Or hung from high archways or high on the walls inside the tower. She already learned that is was the Sigil of the house Baratheon, the current ruling family on the continent called Westeros.

The castellan, Ser Cortnay Penrose was a bald man with red beard and an old weathered face, but he had taken the time to listen to Reese and her questions. He provided her with the answers she sought out and the maps of the word. He told her about how odd she seemed to him and everyone that had seen her.

A young girl with a fair complexion and strange clothing. Her hair the colour of turquoise made her stand out far more, even more so than the orange hair several people sported. The black markings on her cheeks and pads on her elbows and knees, laced up boots made of something else. He told her she looked funny, different, and unnatural. Her mauve shirt was longer than he short sleeved hoody and gave off the slight impression that it was a short dress. Of course it wasn’t, and her black tights were again something the knight hadn’t seen.

She just found it odd that many of the men around the castle, who escorted her everywhere she went, wore armour that would slow them down so much. It was a question she wanted to know but didn’t know how to ask it. It wasn’t until she watched a training session with real swords that she understood. And the understanding made her realise that the men, at least in Storm’s End, didn’t have any aura.

The man had been cut, even though he’d been stuck many times on his armour the first time it made contact with skin she saw the dark redness of blood seep out from the wound. Her eyes bulged and the guards with her spoke. “Little lady hasn’t seen blood inflicted that way before then?” He laughed. “He’ll be find. Stormlands men are tough and that is but a scratch”.

Although they were telling the truth, Reese had learned something incredible that she could definitely use to her advantage. Although he hadn’t been trained with a sword, her pair of revolvers that were her hoverboard did have blades protruding from the from of them. That’s when a young boy approached Reese from the direction she was walking.

“Good afternoon Ms, I was told you are a guest of Ser Cortnay’s, is that true?” The young boy asked, his jet-black hair reaching down to his shoulders. His blue eyes matched the blue button up tunic. He was short and young, yet there was something Ser Cortnay had informed her about. To treat the boy with respect as even though the child was a bastard, he could well be legitimised one day. And it would be best to keep his good side.

“Yep that’s me! The strange girl with funny clothing and a weirder hair colour”. She gave a smile. “There anything I can do for you little man?” She said with a wide grin. She wasn’t going to address him differently than she would others in her world.

“My name is Edric, what is yours?” He asked, the simple question was a surprise. Reese had figured he name and description would have been made well known throughout the castle.

“Name’s Reese lil lord”. The boy Edric would accompany Reese, or maybe it was the other way around since he was a potential heir to the Iron Throne. He asked her many questions. Why her hair was a funny colour, what the board she was carrying was, where she came from and if she was betrothed yet. The last one had concerned her a little as she hadn’t thought much about it ever. That and the one asking was rather young.

Her own questions were more to find out more about where she was and what the situation was in Westeros. He mostly echoed the words the castellan spoke, only Edric’s words were easier to believe as Reese felt the old man had lied to her. Hearing it from a youth’s mouth made it really hit home that she wasn’t on Remnant.

From what Reese could gather about the boy’s parents, his father was King Robert Baratheon and his mother was Delena Florent. He was recognised as the King’s bastard, but that meant he had very little to no claim on the throne unless he was legitimised. His ears were rather large too, but Reese didn’t mention that, she was too aware that she looked out and out of place in these times that she considered old.

There were not scrolls, flying was a dream, transport was by foot, horse, or ship. The weapons were all medieval, swords, bows, spears. She was sued to coming up against such weapons in her training at Haven Academy, but there were also guns she had to combat. Here in this world she knew she’d have the advantage over everyone, at least until her ammunition ran out and even then, her aura was a huge advantage.

* * *

** Neopolitan **

The return trip to Sunspear was an odd one. The prince who had revealed himself to be Oberyn Martell, had asked the strange girl several questions. Questions he had to repeatedly ask because of the complete silence the girl gave him.

Even with the gift of a horse to ride on, Neopolitan, or Neo for short, didn’t answer. She had to have the stirrups adjusted so she could ride solo, at a towering four feet ten inches tall Neo had the least imposing stature he’d ever seen. But her calm and quiet demeanour made Oberyn very cautious. His time away from Dorne and travelling the world had taught him many things, one major one was that size didn’t matter.

Short and dressed in a strange combination of black, white, pink, and brown, Oberyn thought she was from Essos where some people dressed strangely. He’d seen men with purple beards and green hair, men with paled faces and dark skin dur to the makeup they wore. However, this girl never answered a question. She just rode on and followed them to the capital of Dorne.

Neo was busy looking around the area she was in. Vast fields of sand, rocky outcrops, bones of long dead animals and very little in terms of greenery. Feeling the sun beating down on her poor skin she popped her umbrella open while she rode. The guards gave her strange and wary looks. Neo just gave them back a calm and confident smile.

Riding into the walled settlement of Sunspear was something new for Neo, she’d been here and there, all over Vale and to other parts of Remnant. But she’d never been to place quite like Sunspear. The housing pushed up against the outer wall confused her. There the people would be exposed to the Grimm, not only that but it would be the perfect spot to hide out for the White Fang and her partner Roman.

Yet they didn’t stop at the wall, they rode through it and two more gates, heading straight for the more luxurious parts of the city. The smells were amazing to Neo, salt from the sea that was so close, the smells rising from the labyrinth of buildings below. The rancid smells and sounds of intercourse as they rode past many brothels, some of which the lead rider, Prince Oberyn would unashamedly wave at. _This man doesn’t seem to mind letting others know of his sexual desires._ Neo thought with a small smirk.

As they reached the palace portion of the settlement, Neo swung a leg over and dismounted easily and much quicker than any of the men around her. They gave her a stern look as several of them take the horses to the stables. The soldiers, she assumed they were because of their swords and metal armour soon departed. Their brightly coloured flowing robes covering the metal parts of their armour was strange to her.

The decorated robes were coloured yellow and had emblems over silver, grey, and brown woven into them. Her attention then turned to the buildings around her. The main one taking her interest was the tallest in the city. It reached into the sky and looked like a spear. Soft footsteps sounded behind her, but Neo didn’t budge, she just continued to look up as the sun glistened off the stretching tower.

“Marvellous isn’t it.” The voice said sounding less than proud of the structure. Neo just shrugged before turning on her heel to look up at the olive-skinned man with thin eyebrows and eyes like a snake. His hair black with a tiny amount of silver streaks indicating his possible age. “We call it The Spear Tower, over a hundred feet tall and is the first thing anyone sees when they come to Sunspear.”

Neo let her admiration for such a building show in her eyes, pink and brown with black pupils. She glanced back to the tower now knowing its name and smiled before looking back to the man. She knew him to be a prince from when he introduced himself to her, and with the title Prince, she knew he should have some wealth.

But that trail of thinking was interrupted as woman with similarly coloured skin arrived. Her black hair trailed behind her as she strode towards them. She didn’t even acknowledge Neo before she embraced the man. Oberyn and the woman shared a passionate kiss before they both turned their eyes upon the childlike Neo.

“Who’s the kid?” The woman asked.

“Now now my love. She hasn’t spoken a word yet”. Oberyn informed her with a smile. The woman rounded on Neo trying to intimidate the short girl. Neo smirked, and relaxed into a pose with one hand holding the handle of her umbrella and her other hand the tip.

“She’s a pale thing. You sick or something child?” As she asked, she reached out to touch Neo. A slight touch is all the woman managed before Neo moved so quickly that neither of the Dornish had time to react. Hooking the handle of her umbrella around the woman’s neck she pulled the woman forwards before stepping forwards quickly and letting the handle of the umbrella catch on the front of the woman’s throat. Stopping the woman’s forward momentum with a hard jerk.

There was a cough and groan followed by the sound of a mass hitting the concrete ground. Oberyn had his hand on the hilt of his dagger that he always kept at his back. He and Neo stared at one another while many guards and women ran towards the chaos Neo had already caused.

Yelling erupted, swords were drawn, threats were directed at her and only her for harming the Prince’s woman. _These people could entertain me for a while I suppose, but who first?_ Neo thought to herself. Her confident smile that was still shining brightly put some of the guards on edge. “She’s crazy!”, “Mad bitch!” Neo just covered her mouth with one hand and gave a soft, soundless laugh.

Oberyn himself was staring at her and telling his daughters… _He has daughters. Which ones are they?_ Looking around Neo could only find a few females, all with various weapons pointed at her. _Yes, they could entertain me for a while._

“Everyone stop. I’d like to converse with the girl. She demonstrated she is dangerous and I’d like to see more.” Oberyn approached her carefully. He wasn’t armoured like the others, she could tell he was mostly in leather, light and more manoeuvrable. He looked different as he approached, cautious and knowing. Her eyes narrowed on him and she nodded.

“How would you like to show me what you can do in a controlled environment. Not major injuries but there will be bumps and bruises.” Oberyn offered the mute. None of them knew she was a mute but that didn’t change a thing to Neo, people either got her or they didn’t. Those that didn’t well…

“Father? How can you let that short bitch go unpunished?” One of the woman called out. Black hair braided and resting on her chest, her eyes like Prince Oberyn’s and a sword in her hand. She was obviously one of his daughters. The one next to her with a spear had brown hair and was larger, yet her eyes were closer than most peoples and her hair was tied back brown. Yet the resemblance to Oberyn was there, even as an outsider Neo could tell she came from him.

“She will not go unpunished. I’ll be giving you and your sisters plenty of chances to make her suffer.” At that the two girls next to one another grinned. Neo returned the smile, eager to see what these girls who the prince obviously rated highly would do against her. _This place really will be fun._

* * *

**Note: I could not find Cardin’s exact height so I went from this reference. (It should also be noted that Cardin is very tall. He stands at least a head above the rest of his teammates.) Which I took from the RWBY Wiki, in case anyone wanted to know why. He was still taller than Jaune by a head. And Jaune is 6’1” tall.**


	5. Chapter 5

** Chapter #4: King’s Stay & Weiss’ First Student **

* * *

** Weiss **

Her first meeting with Lord Stark had been a long one. They talked for hours, he questioned her without end. Accused her of belonging to the bloodline of the former royal family of Westeros. White hair close to the silver of theirs apparently. But her eyes weren’t purple like theirs, but blue was closer than the man liked. Still she had remained a suspect from that first meeting, her refusal to surrender her weapon only made things worse.

She didn’t see the big deal in keeping her rapier, it was hers and hers only. No old man was going to convince her otherwise. Save for a teacher or someone she trusted, and she certainly didn’t trust Lord Stark. So information was shared between the two and Weiss found that she was in a time were technology was medieval to her. No guns, communication other than by voice or written and carried by bird or rider. No vehicles and the biggest one, no Dust.

The world she was stuck on somehow was something she knew she’d have to adjust to, and with her skills and huntress in training she wondered how the soldiers of this world were. And as the days turned to weeks, Weiss spent her time reading up on the powerful families and legends of the land. She found that she got on well with Maester Luwin. A learned man from a place far to the south called Oldtown, a strange and stupid name as far as Weiss was concerned.

But even so, with Maester Luwin’s aid and keen interest in the girl, Weiss began to understand the land and how it worked. The histories and how the one kingdom was forged, comprised of seven. A long history of conflict and wars between men. No Grimm, but the old stories suggested an old enemy, something referred to as the Others and an event called the long night. Given that it happened so long ago she could see why most people didn’t believe it.

She was banned from training with her rapier, but that didn’t stop her from observing other people train, notably they were all male which Weiss scoffed at. It was truly medieval, the woman were nothing but bargaining tools. To repair the damages done in battle or to create a new alliance. She watched the girl she’d met, Arya Stark train with her bow and outperform her brother Bran. That was really the only thing that pleased her.

The older girl, Sansa had spoken to her a few times, but Weiss found her to girly, too interested in boys and in making dresses. She preferred the little one Arya, a girl keen to learn to fight. The only obstacles were her stupid father and the laws of the kingdoms.

The only ones’ worth much of her interest was the two of the older sons. The heir to Winterfell, Robb, a boy of fourteen and his brother. More correctly his half and bastard brother Jon who sported the last name Snow. Maester Luwin had informed her of the names bastards took in the different kingdoms and being in the north, Snow made sense.

The two younger boys she didn’t pay attention to. Too young yet the one the called Brandon was often taught as he was the backup heir. The youngest Rickon was often missing, out playing his pet direwolf. They were small but growing rather quickly, already nearing the height of Arya’s waist.

And if Weiss thought it was bad how they were treating her, not letting her out much as to not expose her to the smallfolk who might start spreading rumours, it got worse when the King’s convoy arrived on the Kingsroad. She was ushered into a far away room within Winterfell. Told to stay there and not reveal herself for the duration of the King’s visit.

Of course, Weiss immediately snuck out the window, wrapping herself in a hooded cloak and pulling part of it across her face to hide her features. She was beautiful even amongst the noble Stark family. Seventeen and unwed, flower intact, not that anyone knew, and fit to be given to a man as a prize. That’s what she’d overheard Catelyn say about her. Suggesting Eddard use her to forge an alliance. She was a girl, fatherless, no family, a guest living off their food and being so beautiful any man would be blessed to have her. How could Weiss refuse the wife of Eddard spoke.

It was then that she started hating the woman. Catelyn reminded her of her father. Using her as a tool to further increase the Schnee legacy. But now walking about the castle she lined up among the commonfolk and watched as horde of riders come through. A few were different, two with white cloaks and golden tinted armour. A man of great stature who wore a dark dog helmet.

An older, fatter man dismounted his own horse, and everyone bowed. Weiss played the part and got down on one kneed and bowed her head. _He must be the king everyone’s been talking about._ She thought before everyone ended up standing. The King greeted the Stark family before he and Eddard introduced their children to one another.

The King shook Robb’s hand and patted Rickon’s shoulder. _I guess the mother didn’t want Jon around._ Weiss though since he was absent from the line-up. All of the children were hers and Eddard’s. She really was the worst, definitely reminding Weiss of her father Jacques. Thankfully she at least didn’t have to put up with him on this world. But she did have to deal with the fact women were treated poorly.

With the greetings out of the way and the King and Lord Stark walking off together. People began to move. The King’s children being shown inside. Catelyn and the Queen conversing while she noticed Sansa giving the King’s oldest son a look that screamed ‘I love you’. She didn’t find the boy attractive, and besides that he was young, a teen at most.

Weiss rolled her eyes and went about walking around the castle in her robes. She never got questioned once as she stayed to the shadows, but she did end up getting someone to play with. Nymeria, the smaller Stark girl’s direwolf was nuzzling against her leg. She didn’t know why the pup, who was now a lot bigger than their first encounter was nuzzling her. She squatted down and patted her.

“Who’s a good girl… Who’s a good girl.” She scratch behind Nymeria’s ear. “You are… yes you are.” Weiss was having fun, nearly the only time she had fun since she’d discovered where she was and had come to terms with it all.

“Large and threatening? More like friendly and loves all the pats.” She was smiling ear to ear as she patted the growing wolf. Her joy was soon interrupted by a small but hard voice.

“Why do you get to use a sword and I don’t? And leave Nymeria alone.” It was Arya, the smaller girl who Weiss had learned, wanted to be a knight instead of a lady. Creeping around had really paid off as she eavesdropped on conversations.

“Because I come from a better world.” She replied simply, her words landing on Arya without a shred of doubt. “And the laws in this world are stupid. There are many powerful women where I come from. My sister, the professors, my teammates and friends. Here women are treated as nothing but tools. Forced to marry and carry on the name of people they may very well hate.”

Arya just looked at Weiss, the stranger from another world, the one who was learned in ways she could only dream of. She called Nymeria to her side and ordered the wolf to return to her kennel. Weiss pouted. _Freaking brat…! Is that what I was… am like?_ She questioned herself and looked away holding her chin and starting to reflect on her own past actions.

“Can you train me? I mean, after you show me how good you are with that sword.” Weiss was surprised that the proud, tomboy Stark asked her such a thing. She didn’t know how to answer at first, she didn’t want to upset the balance and anger the girl’s father. But the longer she thought about it and the more dejected Arya started to look tugged at Weiss’ kinder side.

“Fine, we begin whenever you’re ready, but only at night and outside the castle. Deal?” It was Arya’s turn to be silent for a time, to contemplate the risks and possible rewards. There was only one answer the daughter of Lord Stark would give though, one that would change her life for better or worse.

“Deal!” The small girl grinned. “Can we start tonight?” Weiss shook her head.

“There’s things I want to do and things I want to learn. I’ll be a little busy tonight, but perhaps tomorrow night.” The Stark girl looked mad, stomped her foot even. Weiss thought the little tomboy was adorable, reminded her a little of Ruby.

With Arya satisfied, Weiss could turn her attention to the happenings within the castle walls, although she had to return to her new quarters to satisfy her minders. But as the day dragged and her reading grew dull she decided to escape once more. Fleeing out into the torchlit streets and alleys within the confines of Winterfell’s walls.

Guards stood around The Great Hall of Winterfell, barring the common folk and those not approved by Eddard from entering the hall. It was the first night, a great feast had been thrown and a lot of important people were in attendance. The royal family and the northern Lord’s family.

Weiss had tried to sneak in but was seen. She fled before being physically caught and hid in the shadows. For hours she waited, trying to listen in. But it was all pointless. The laughter often drowned out the words and when words could be made out they were often overshadowed by a louder voice. _Drunken fools the lot of them._ She thought as she got up to leave. There wasn’t anything there for her to learn.

Turning away she heard one of the rear doors open. Swivelling, she came to rest her eyes upon the man… boy that left the hall. She recognised him and sighed. It was the bastard son, Jon. He looked miserable, crying. She should have just left like she planned, but something drew her forwards. She was about to step out from the shadows when she heard a voice right next to Jon, only noticing the Lannister dwarf after he’d spoken.

Weiss stepped back, remaining cloaked in darkness as she watched the two converse. Jon, a boy and the dwarf, an adult of thirty something years, although he looked older. She could hear there conversation almost clearly. _Tyrion Lannister… The Queen’s younger brother then._ Weiss discovered. She’d read up on the current noble houses and knew several of their names, having a face to the name was a big help though. And then she could link all of the rumours about Tyrion to him.

Most were bad rumours, a hideous monkey who could barely walk. If only people knew the truth, he wasn’t handsome but nor was he hideous like Weiss had heard people say he was. And the way he moved, slipping from his seat atop the barrel to his hands and vaulted back onto his feet. Weiss was impressed with the small man, that was for sure.

She heard words, the talking about bastards, real or dwarven, but both were disappointments in their father’s eyes, according to Tyrion anyway. She waited until Tyrion had left, not wanting to be discovered by one of the guests, but gladly revealed herself from the shadows to allow for Jon to take notice of her. She knew he wouldn’t tell anyone of her disobedience. He stumbled, almost falling as he got closer to her. She smiled beneath her hood.

“I thought Lady Stark didn’t want you around?” Jon asked, Weiss could smell the alcohol on his breath and groaned.

“And aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” She retorted. The bastard puffed his chest out, even at fourteen he was taller than her.

“I’m nearly a man grown… although uncle Benjen doesn’t see it that way.” His eyes cast downwards, sulking like a child. Weiss didn’t know what the whole, man grown thing was, but she gave her opinion, her cultural norm.

“You’re fourteen Jon. You’re far of being a grown man. Where I’m from eighteen is the ‘accepted’ age where people call themselves adults. But there are people who still act like children far into their twenties.” She’d thought her words would help him, but instead all she got was a glare from the bastard.

“Well how old are you? You’re short and small. No chest or…” Weiss pushed him, and he stumbled, falling to the ground. She had been self-conscious of her bust for some time. Small, childish, even Ruby had bigger breasts than her and she was only fifteen. He’d commented on a sensitive topic.

“You’re drunk. Consider that a lesson for being so rude to a female. Boy.” She emphasised the last word before walking away. She was going to try and comfort him, talk through whatever was troubling him, but he’d ruined her already temperamental mood.

Jon sat there on the ground as the hooded girl walked away. He couldn’t help but admire her strength. Even drunk he thought himself to be easily stronger than her. Apparently, he’d need to reconsider.

The following morning Weiss snuck out again, against Eddard Stark’s wishes. He wanted to hide her away for resemblance to the former royal family the Targaryens, but she was curious about the world and the happenings since the king was near. She ignored his wishes and this day found herself very unamused.

Two little children with wooden swords in their hands were whacking at one another with little skill the resembled swordsmanship. She was joined by Jon who remained silent, not broaching the events of the night past. The two playing with sticks were Bran Stark and Tommen Baratheon.

The royal kid was padded so much, Weiss could see the waddle he had. It was bad enough the kid was thicker even without the padding, but hurting royalty wouldn’t be a good thing at all. Even Bran looked fat in his padding, royal and nobleman’s sons, clad in thick hide and steel. She wanted to laugh, but it was far from funny.

She’d learned on one of her first day in Winterfell that the people of this world did not have aura. The bled, got cut, bruised with ease. Their wounds took a long time to heal, even the nobles didn’t have aura and when she questioned Maester Luwin he called her mad, stating that something like that could never exist. So Weiss kept it to herself, knowing that one day that very protection would prove most valuable.

Soon the younger daughter showed up to watch too, apparently skipping out on some important womanly stitches that Catelyn had even tried to pressure Weiss into doing. She flat out refused to do such a mundane task, burying herself in the books Luwin had in the library, learning what she could about the Kingdom.

“Jon guess what.” Arya said with a joyful look on her face.

“What?” He asked, not even bothering to entertain the girl’s guessing game.

“Weiss there is going to teach me the sword.” Now with both Stark and Snow looking at her she shrugged and nodded.

“Does father know she’s going to do that?” Jon questioned his little sister cautiously. Arya shook her head.

“You won’t tell will you?” Weiss smirked, she sounded like Ruby when she stole a cookie from Yang’s hidden treat stash that was quickly uncovered in their first semester at Beacon.

“I won’t tell, but you two better not get caught. Lady Stark would be the angrier of the two.” Jon shared Weiss’ view on Lady Stark, a proper woman of the world by all accounts. Religious but favouring the Seven over the Old Gods and a family woman. That was so far the only thing Weiss found redeeming about the middle-aged woman.

“So what are you going to teach her with. Not that thin stick you call a sword.” There is was, Jon’s attitude rearing it’s head. Was he still annoyed at her for last night?

“It’s a rapier for your information. And yes, I’ll be teaching her to use one. My sister taught me and now I’ll teach Arya.” Weiss responded matter-of-factly.

“But it’s little and not knightly.” Arya complained, the stubbornness Weiss had learned was somewhat of a common trait among the Starks. But she wasn’t going to budge.

“I’ll defeat any knight here with this if that’s what it takes to prove you wrong. Or perhaps…” She got a smug look on her face. “Jon, how about you come along for the first session and I’ll show Arya how swiftly I can defeat you.” She could tell he didn’t like that, she had insulted his pride as a man of this world by saying that she, a woman could beat him sword to sword.

Jon reluctantly agreed to go to their first secret training session and was about to speak when Robb and Prince Joffrey started insulting one another. Mostly the prince who was younger calling Robb a coward for not using a real blade. The Master-at-arms, Ser Rodrik was refusing to let either fight with one though.

The insults were short lived as the golden-haired body moved off with his entourage, leaving a fuming Robb glaring daggers at the back of the group. Weiss noted one figure among the Prince’s group. A tall man, the one had worn the dog helmet when they arrived. A big man, taller than everyone apart from the daft stable boy she’d encountered.

His face was burned and unsmiling, not that Weiss had done much smiling since finding herself in such a place. Cold, the people didn’t trust her, Catelyn wanted her to bend to the ways of what women did in this world. Eddard wanted her to remain hidden, there was nothing here but stupid rules and stupid people. _At least Arya and Jon talk to me, and Arya is willing to let me teach her._

Sandor Clegane was the name that she’d learned, guard dog to the prince, the next king of Westeros. He was by no means an attractive man even with his height. She knew girls who swooned for tall men, one being Ruby who would always stare at the second-year student on team CFVY. Yatsuhashi, she wondered if Ruby had a small crush on the giant, not that she could ask her partner now.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the two direwolves. Ghost and Nymeria padding around near them. She smiled knowing that at least Nymeria somewhat liked her. She hadn’t bit at her, and she had stopped growling at her too.

“You best head back to your room Weiss. You too little sister. Septa Mordane will surely be lurking about.” Arya hesitated for a while, but soon they all went in their own directions. Weiss off to see what more she could learn from Luwin.

Several days more passed as the king and his entourage lingered about. On one such night where yet another feast was being held, Weiss took the chance to offer to train Arya. She accepted seeing as she was no longer a required presence at the feasts, and Jon too came along with his own sword.

The location she’d picked was outside Winterfell’s walls, an easy task when both Jon and Arya said they were going to check on the horses. It was under the shelter of the stables that Weiss began to teach. She put her rapier in Arya’s hand, left, it was like destiny had chosen her to be the noble girl’s teacher, both being left handed and all.

Smiling happily, she began to teach her the way Winter had taught her. “Keep your posture straight to start with. You’re proud and confident after all, make sure your opponent cannot see any fear.” She touched Arya in a few places and put her feet in the right position.

“It’s heavier than it looks.” Arya complain, Weiss noticing her arm beginning to tremble.

“It is steel little sister. Did you think it would be weightless?” Jon asked with a smile.

“No…. but what’s this think here?” Arya asked, pointing to the dust storage compartment on Myrtenaster. “And what’s with all the colours?”

“Ignore that Arya, you should be focusing on your form and making sure you maintain a proper handle of the weapon.” Once Weiss was happy with Arya’s posture, her feet position, and her grip on the rapier she smiled. “Now hold that position, sword up at the ready.” Weiss knew the girl wouldn’t last long, she herself went through the same pain. But coming through it with Winter’s approval and joyous face at her little sister’s growth, she knew now why Winter had taught her.

Winter was a great swordswoman, she always seemed so far ahead of Weiss and it might be because she was already a fully trained huntress, but that didn’t stop Weiss from idolising her. Jon watched with a bored expression while Arya struggled to keep the blade up. Her skinny arms, even for a tomboy, shaking as she kept the blade steady.

Each time it would drop below a certain point Weiss would bark at her to get it up. Arya was growling by the time she could no longer do it. Her arm had gone numb and refused to obey her mind. That’s when Weiss walked over and took Myrtenaster. She patted Arya on the shoulder and smiled.

“You held your posture pretty good most of the time, you’ll have to practise that in your own time now and master it. You did better than I did when my sister first taught me.” Weiss said with a smile, looking back now it was a found memory, but back then it was like Winter had been toying with her.

“So when do I get to learn to fight?” Arya spoke up.

“Once you can hold the sword up for a little longer I’ll begin teaching you basic thrusts and after that slashes.” Arya didn’t look very happy with that, but training took time and these people didn’t have aura.

“Well I think that was a waste of time. The best training is done while moving, not standing there like a statue.” Jon pulled his sword out and twirled it in his grasp. Weiss understood that he wanted to shut her up for hurting his pride with words, but she wasn’t about to back down either.

“Go and sit down Arya. I will demonstrate to Mr Snow that women can fight and are in fact good at it given training.” She held Myrtenaster in front of her body, its thin body covering next to nothing. She stepped back into the very stance she’d made Arya practice, showing her that the stance was useful.

Jon had a long while to examine the stance and didn’t hesitate to attack. An overhead angled slash that Weiss merely moved out of the path of. He followed through with a horizontal slash that Weiss easily pushed towards the ground, her footwork soft and swift as she moved her limbs out of the way. Her arm flicking to point the tip of Myrtenaster at Jon’s throat.

“I win.” She said with a smirk. From the side Arya stared in shock at how effortlessly Weiss bested her brother. But Jon wasn’t done, not yet.

He swatted the blade away from his throat with his steel and pressed into a more aggressive assault. Weiss kept her spacing, toying with the bastard as his strokes became heavier, harder, slower, and more predictable. By the time he was tired she simply dodged them all without using her sword.

“Fight back dammit!’ He ended up yelling after yet another one of his strikes missed. Weiss took the chance to give him his wish. She used slow strikes and thrusts, gently piercing the leather that protected him. She parried his heavy counters, deflecting them away from her without meeting his force with her own.

An opportunity presented itself and she took it. She slapped his wrist with the flat of her blade, such a thin thing it was yet solid enough that he lost his grip for a second. When he got it back it was again too late. She shook her head.

“You just lost your hand and your life Jon. Honestly, you let your rage take over against a more skilled opponent. Had this been real I could have ended your life several times over.” He looked angry for only a moment and then seemed to sober up, unlike a few nights ago.

“I’m sorry. I underestimated you and acted the fool. Can you please forgive a bastard?” He looked up, his blue eyes meeting her own. She held her firm gaze and smiled.

“I won’t forgive a bastard, but I’ll forgive you Jon. Just shows you have a lot to learn.” She sheathed Myrtenaster on her waist and turned to Arya. “It may look silly and be a real pain, but I’ve just displayed what my training can do. Dedication and determination Arya, that is how one gets to a high level… Natural skill helps too.”

The young girl groaned but nodded her head. She understood that Weiss’ training would yield results, even if the beginning was terribly boring. And so, the training ended, a simple taste of what was to come. They headed back inside the castle and where Jon went to his room. Arya stayed with Weiss for a moment talking excitedly about how she couldn’t wait to best a boy in combat.

It warmed Weiss’ heart to see the girl so enthused. She reminded her that footwork and stance played a big part, slashing and thrusting with strength alone was not the way she was taught or would teach Arya. From that night they began training almost every night, save for when Arya got in trouble for not attending her stitching lessons or for making fun of her older sister.

The night came for the final feast and the final night of Arya’s training, but there was no celebrating that night. The boar the King’s hunting party had procured was cooked along with a meal, but the Lords and Ladies, the Stark family along with most of the present Baratheons were lurking about in a despondent state.

The reason for this was simple but terrible. Young Brandon Stark had taken a fall from one of the old towers while climbing. Arya stopped training, of which Weiss could not fault her for. The nights became long as Bran’s wolf howled and disrupted the sleep of everyone in the castle. People had chased it away many times, but it always found a way back outside the tower where Bran was being watched over. This continued for near two weeks and each time it was chased away something strange happened. Weiss would find out through Maester Luwin that he seemed to weaken without his wolf nearby.

During that time Weiss learned the extent of the injuries from her prying into Luwin’s records when he slept. Broken back, shattered lower legs, the child was going to be a cripple for the rest of his life. That night when she learned of all this she cried herself to sleep, she’d watched the boy and seen him nearly every day. He was a bright spirit, a loving and kind one, one that had openly shared his dream with her, his dream to become a knight and then join the Kingsguard. She wished she had of talked with him more.

Arya slowly came back to training since time had come to a standstill in the castle. The Starks worried for their own and the King worried too since he was a close friend of Eddard. There was a lot of change in that time. Catelyn didn’t bother her or Arya meaning their training could continue. Weiss learned that Jon was going up to the Wall, a place where the men took vows of never taking a wife and never having children.

Weiss had gone to talk with him on a couple of separate occasions. He was still a boy, not a man, far from it. She didn’t even consider herself an adult. Their first talk was a harsh one, Weiss accusing of running away from his family, abandoning Brandon when he would need him. It didn’t help that Eddard had also accept the offer to be the Hand of the King. And in doing so was taking both of his daughters with him. Weiss wasn’t so upset about the departure of Sansa, but with Arya leaving she felt like her best friend was leaving her.

And it wasn’t only them, Bran was supposed to go too, but now with his accident Bran was stricken, on the brink of death only being kept alive by Luwin and Catelyn feeding him honey and water. She’d not been allowed in, but Arya had shared her opinion and other information in a time where she needed comforting.

Gaunt with his skin sticking to his bones like branches. Skin greyed and eyes sunken into black pits. Weiss could only imagine seeing a sibling like that, and being trapped in this new world, she was glad she’d never see Winter of any of her friends like that.

But Jon took offense, great offense. They had a small spat of verbal words, of which Weiss easily had the upper hand on the poor bastard. Raised among the politics and manoeuvring of her father and the Schnee name amongst the continent of Solitas and its capital Atlas, Weiss had learned more than a few words to confuse or simply insult him.

They refused to talk to one another for several days, until the day before the King had decided was to be the final day he would remain in Winterfell. The capital of King’s Landing needed it’s King and Hand back to enforce the law, pass new laws, deal with other requests and solve problems from nobles and common folk alike. It was that day after dinner when the two bumped into one another.

Weiss was the first to speak, apologising for her behaviour as she didn’t know the ways this world worked. She apologised for attacking him verbally and causing him ever more stress when his brother was in critical condition of which no one knew if he’d wake up from.

Jon apologised to Weiss too, he’d been foolish that night where he got drunk and said cruel things about her appearance which made the heiress blush. He explained how he’d never have a place here in Winterfell since he was a Snow, he might be the son of a noble Lord, but his position was still frowned upon by many. The result of Lord Eddard dishonouring his wife and said wife had still never accepted Jon into the family.

Weiss could kind of relate to that. She’d left Atlas and her family to attend Beacon Academy in hopes of proving that she was her own person. It was during that talk that she realised this boy was similar to her in that regard. Going from opposing him, Weiss went to carefully questioning him and asking if he was sure about his decisions, as some carried harsh consequences.

Never taking a wife or having children, he didn’t seem to mind, but then he’d never been with a woman either. Apparently he didn’t care and revealed that he’d asked for a special something to be made by the castle smith Mikken. A sword similar to Weiss’ as a going away gift to his little sister. Weiss smiled hearing that, their training was going to be cut short less than a month in, but with any luck Arya would continue practicing somehow.

The morning of the King’s departure the castle was abuzz with people. Supplies being taken out into the wagons for the trip back, horses being saddled for the journey. Mostly all the people that the King brought in his entourage readying themselves for the journey back to the capital.

Eddard had come to see Weiss as this would be the last time for a long while he’d be able to talk to the Targaryen look-a-like. “While I am gone you are to listen to my son Robb. He will be the Lord of Winterfell. This means you will obey everything he asks of you.”

Weiss looked up at him from her desk, not even giving the Lord the respect of standing. “I’ll listen to what he has to say. And if I deem it important or proper I will act according to my own beliefs and thoughts.” The scowl she got from the long-faced man said it all. He was not happy.

“I’ll see to it that someone keeps an eye on you.” He turned and walked away from Weiss, stopping once he reached the door. “If I hear anything suspicious or unnerving about you, actions will be taken. Understand?” Weiss gave a simple nod and waved him off, she had little respect for the man who had been so hard on her during her first few hours in Westeros, in this new world.

 _Stupid old man. You’re only going with the King because you’re his old friend._ Weiss had heard the stories of Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon, the tales of the rebellion that overthrew the Targaryen dynasty. She had nothing to do with it and no ties to anyone in that world. Though her friendship with his bastard and his youngest daughter was growing. Until they both had to leave that day.

She wasn’t able to sneak off to see either of them, guards being placed on her door and window. She kicked the door with her boot given to her because of its sturdiness in the North’s climate. She appreciated that, being clothed and fed, allowed to read and study to her hearts content.

But as the noises grew distant and the sounds of Winterfell returned to silence, she felt something off about the place. There was a now unnatural feel to the castle, and as the days would pass, Weiss would find it difficult if not impossible to stay positive. _I need to get out of here. I need to go and explore on my own… its like being in Atlas all over again._ With her mind made up, she only needed to decide on where she’d be heading.

South was the logical choice, warm, sunny, many, many more places to visit and learn about. Going to the capital might be out of the question but surely going anywhere and everywhere else would be fine. And then there was north, a whole lot of nothing really, save for the wall of ice that was said to protect the realm from the Others and wildlings.

Either way, Weiss had a difficult decision to make. Exploring the land given her appearance might cause problems, but she was a huntress in training, a skilled warrior with aura. Surely there was nothing that could stop her.


	6. Chapter 6

** Chapter #5: Lady’s Fate & Red Sand **

* * *

** Yang **

Yang’s time at the inn had now last several weeks with her racking up quite the wealth of coin from those foolish enough to challenge her at anything physical. The poor ones didn’t have much, so she left them be, but those who tried to grab and grope the serving girl were quickly under Yang’s eyes. Sometimes they didn’t take her offer, so Yang left them to it. If they still tried for her she’d toss them out along with anyone who tried to help.

She even managed to get some larger amounts of coins from a couple of noblemen that stopped by, large bags with mostly silver and even a few golden dragons inside. Of course, Yang was generous to her friend and employer, giving her a good twenty percent of whatever she earned. It was much more than what it cost to feed and house Yang so Masha didn’t say a word, hell she even encouraged her to target the ones she knew would carry more gold.

So that’s how it went for weeks, Yang making money and protecting the inn from the riff raff as Masha had called them. A security guard for the building and those working and staying inside. She also used her time to talk with different comers and goers, learning names, sigils, locations, being given a map even of which she studied hard. It was clear to her she wasn’t on Remnant anymore, she was a fighter first and foremost, but she was not stupid by any means.

It was when the King’s company left Winterfell and returned down the Kingsroad that Yang really started making a name for herself. Soldiers of Baratheon and Lannister, mercenaries and merchants, hedge knights and other nobles or men with wealth would stop by for an ale or to stay the night. Masha said the King might possibly stop there on his return to King’s Landing.

Yang was to be on her best behaviour and listen to whatever the King, Queen, Lords, and other important people wanted. She was not to try and skin them of some money, even though they would have a lot. “The King always pays well wherever he goes girl, and it’s best not to anger him when he’s drunk.” Yang sighed and resigned herself to a boring night.

But when the King’s company did show up the amount of people was absurd. Horses and carts, a wheelhouse that a couple of golden haired, green eyed people came out of. One was older, the other a younger version of her, a mother and daughter and unknown to Yang, the Queen and Princess of Westeros.

Knights in many designs roamed around the grounds turning the dirt to mud and erecting tents on the sides of the roads and down the road where there were more open areas. Yang remained indoors, watching from above in her own quarters as she slowly changed. The bras of this time didn’t feel great against her skin, but they did the job and she was quickly becoming accustomed to them. _Perhaps with the money I’ve won I can get a few good pairs._

Thankfully Masha had given up on trying to get Yang to wear a dress on this occasion, Yang was not one for dresses and instead presented herself in baggy pants with laced brown leather boots. Her torso covered with a greyed top and leather woven overlay that was a little tight across her chest. Masha shook her head seeing her and told her to stand guard while the serving girl went about her duties.

The two girls Yang saw leave the wheelhouse came in and walked past Yang towards the bedroom. “You’re really pretty.” The younger girls said, bringing a smile to Yang’s face who squats down to her level. About to speak the mother snaps.

“Myrcella! We do not speak to the peasants.” Yang’s eyes turned up to the older woman as she rounded on her, how could she speak so ill of someone she didn’t know. _That’s it, I’m tossing her out._ She thought as Masha called out.

“Forgive her Your Grace. She’s not from these parts and likely does not know who you are.” She clips Yang on the head and the brawler winches, putting on an act, rubbing her head. “This is the Queen, the little one is her daughter. So bow to them and apologise this instant.”

Yang knew when to hold her tongue and gave a deep bow. “I’m sorry Your Grace. Forgive my lack of knowledge.” Cersei scoffed.

“A girl does not bow, they curtsey.” She said before turning and leaving to the room, the Princess giving Yang a smile and Yang giving her a wink. She waited until she heard a door shut and turned to Masha who looked white as a ghost.

“You feeling ok boss?” Yang asked completely unaware of what could have happened.

“Are you stupid?! You didn’t even acknowledge the Queen… it will be a surprise if I’m not dragged before the king to answer for your stupidity.” Yang felt a little hurt from all that, sure she’d learned a lot, but who people were by face value was hard. The woman could very well have just been a wealthy individual.

“Sorry. I guess I’ll keep quiet for a while and only speak when spoken to.” Yang was jesting, but when Masha told her that it would be for the best Yang frowned. She walked herself to a corner and leaned there patiently. A few men approached, mostly ones in red and gold, asking her what her name was, if she had a husband, some didn’t even ask that much and request her to share their tent.

Each man was met with a laugh before a certain one approached, a large man in width, black and gold and brown were his colours with a beard and hair beginning to grey. She knew who he was by who was with him, knights clad in iron and steel, stag and lion sigils embroidered on their armour. This was the King, the one she really shouldn’t speak out against or try to joke with.

She watched his eyes travel her body and squinted as she saw a smirk come to his face. She felt revolted that such a man could command such power. _Doesn’t he have a wife? The hell is this fool thinking?_ She asked herself, waiting until he was out of sight before sighing. Masha had been watching her closely and let out a visible sigh of relief.

It was hours later, late afternoon when everything began to get exciting. A golden-haired boy who to Yang looked a little sickly was carried into the inn with herself being pushed aside. She strained to listen as the boy spoke up about a little girl, a butcher’s boy, and then finally a wolf. But it wasn’t just any wolf, but a direwolf.

They were long extinct in Yang’s world of Remnant, but here there were apparently some still around. Of how many she didn’t know, but as the queen started asking for the wolf’s head she glared at her. Thankfully she was too busy tending to her injured child to notice Yang’s gaze, but there was one other in the room that did see it.

A man who had brown hair and grey eyes, his beard had greys coming through showing his age just like the king. His face seemed long and serious yet showed nothing more than a small fear.

“Ned! Find your girl and bring me that wolf!” The king demanded. The man called Ned gave a small bow and moved towards the exit as the queen screamed that a search party should be sent out.

“I’ll have my men score the area and have Arya found and the wolf chained. Someone will also…”

“I want the Lannister’s men looking too! Baratheon men also. Your daughter’s mutt wounded our son, I’ll see it butchered in return.” Yang could see where the woman was coming from, the urge to protect her daughter was like Yang’s urge to protect Ruby from all things bad. Killing the wolf, a direwolf at that also seemed, expected.

And so what was to be a small search ended up being a massive one with three powerful houses sending what men they had out to find a girl Arya and her wolf. Yang wanted to help, to bring the girl home and see the wolf punished.

It took three nights before the girl was finally found, a feat that Yang was most impressed with. Most of the king’s company had left the inn while only the soldiers and mostly Stark ones at that remained. It was the third day that Yang had left Masha’s inn and started looking herself. Many men offered their sword to guard her but she rejected all of them insisting that she was fine.

The men, some of them didn’t take too kindly to this as the land was a dangerous place, a woman as attractive as her might get the attention of some more undesirable men. She reluctantly agreed but had one of each looking with her. Stark, Lannister, Baratheon, and Yang, all searching together for the remainder of the day and some of the night. Needless to say she was the last to give up and all three men acknowledged her strength of will.

Yang didn’t need their acknowledgement, she knew she could handle whatever might have been lurking in the shadows, whatever man might have tried to force her into a terrifying position. She had done so before, Masha had seen first hand how easily Yang had sorted out the troublemakers in the inn.

It was during the fourth day of searching that news spread about Arya being found. _Come on! Why couldn’t I have found her?_ Yang complained to herself, huffing and putting her hands in her pockets and beginning the walk back to the castle that now housed the royal family and its honoured guests.

She arrived to see a man leaving the castle laughing to himself in gold and green. A Baratheon royal based on the fine clothing he wore, the dark black hair of the Baratheon’s too. She waited outside seeing as the door was guarded by Lannister men, men of which she had learned were a little less approachable than the other house’s guards and soldiers.

From the inside she could soon hear yelling, screaming, accusations of different kinds and after a time the one called Ned, or Eddard Stark she’d later learned who he really was. The Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Hand of the King. Three titles that made him possibly the second most powerful man in the realm as the people called it.

He looked grim, hard faced and angry, a look that Yang knew very well from when she got angry at things and people. She decided to follow him, making sure to give him a wide berth so he wouldn’t notice her. She found a direwolf chained to a stake in the ground as his destination, it had a beautiful coat of fur on it. White and grey with eyes that appeared to have little to no malice in them, a direwolf that was more like a dog than a wild beast.

Yang remained in the shadows of the nearby forest for a time, wondering what the Hand of the King was doing with the animal. It was some minutes later that another man arrived, a man carrying a large sword that Lord Stark hesitantly gripped and pulled from its scabbard. It shone brilliantly, the pattern visible even from several meters away and Yang found herself wanting to hold it, but it was quickly washed from her mind as the man raised it up.

Without thinking she dashed forwards, the man who brought the sword tried to stop her, grabbing the hilt of his sword and trying to pull his sword free. She knocked him down with one punch and grabbed the blade of the large sword. _Fuck!_ She hissed and removed her hand, holding onto the flat of the blade with her fingertips. Ned just looked at her in shock, unsure of what her plan was, but it was him that was questioned.

“Why are you killing that wolf? What did it do?” She asked as blood trickled down the blade.

“The king ordered me to kill it to satisfy his wife’s demands. It did nothing, but what would a Lannister care?” He shot back, trying and failing to pull Ice back from the golden-haired girl’s grasp.

“So it did nothing and deserves to die? And you tell me, I find them quite agitating myself.” Yang answered receiving a curious look from the Lord. _Finally, broke that stony expression._

“You aren’t a Lannister? But that gold hair.” Yang glared at him which is when he noticed her lilac eyes. “Targaryen?” He added to the end, the second time he encountered someone who resembled a Targaryen in some manner.

“You mean those dragon people that people are always talking about, right? Bzzt! Wrong.” She pulled the blade to one side, so they could speak more openly, but as she did his guard got back to his feet, his sword rasping as it escaped the scabbard containing it.

Lord Stark looked perplexed as he thought about the person he left back at Winterfell and now this golden bombshell that was restricting his ability to use Ice completely. The man growled while Yang smiled at him and waved at him with her free hand, a yellow bracelet resting comfortably, hiding a weapon that would be alien to them.

“Jory, put your sword away. I believe this girl will not harm me.” Yang turned back to him and smirked. She waited until Jory’s sword was back where it rested before carefully pushing Eddard’s blade away and letting go. She looked to her hand frowning at the blood that had spilled. _Blasted thing cut right through my aura._

“Such faith in a stranger. Most men here just want piece of ass, then again that was your girl who was missing?” She questioned him.

“So tell me already, why has it been sentenced?” Lord Stark relented and told her of what had transpired. The reason why his daughter Arya ran and was missing for three nights. She had chosen to hide away in fear of getting in trouble because her direwolf Nymeria was the one the bit and scarred the crown prince. Yang had heard this name Nymeria as it was the wolf they were all hunting, but she’d also overheard that the screams from within the hall were ones from a girl pleading for Lady’s life.

He went on to tell her how he believed that Arya was telling the truth while Prince Joffrey was lying, and Sansa was trying to remain neutral between her betrothed and her family. Hearing that Arya’s own sister was against her made her angry, more than a little. Sure, sisters fought like she and Ruby had many times. But to choose a boy, even a prince over her own sister.

“Your daughter, the older one. She sounds like a fool.” She heard Jory growl as she insulted a future Lady, possibly the future Queen of what was the Seven Kingdoms. Yet Lord Stark remained silent before asking her another question.

“So may I kill the wolf, my king commands it.” Jory froze at this, his Lord asking a mere peasant girl if he, the Hand of the King was allowed to do something.

“No. I think I’ll take it.” Yang said, curling some of her golden hair in her fingers and looking at the wolf who tilted her head. “It looks nice, peaceful. No need for it to die, and besides, it wasn’t the one that defended its owner right? Shall we say it was gone when you got here?”

“Robert wouldn’t believe that. We’d need something more convincing.” Eddard said which brought a smirk to Yang.

“I’ve been wanting to knock around a Lord for a while. Knights get old, they all think they’re so tough. And noblemen are just boring and weak.” Jory charged at the taunt and Yang reacted like she expected it. Glancing the sword aside after activating her gauntlets she laid him out with a swift one two combo.

Looking up to Lord Stark she smiled, and he nodded. She was glad he understood what was necessary. With a hard right, harder than necessary he was punched to the ground. He remained there more in shock than anything else. Blood tickled his nose and upper lip as he watched her unchain the wolf and pat it.

“What’s your name, girl?” He crocked as he pushed himself to on knee.

“Name for an answer.” She responded, already beginning to walk away from him. “What is that?” She pointed to the sword that had cut her hand. Eddard blinked, and in that moment, knew she was not of his world, she was like the other that he left behind.

“Valyrian steel. Your name?”

“Yang. Yang Xiao Long.” She turned her head back looking at him with one lilac eye and a smirk on her face. Her golden hair flowed like a mane behind her. She had one stop to make before she would move on, she needed the money she’d made and the backpack that had accompanied her to this land, this world.

* * *

** Eddard **

The questioning and the mocking of Lord Stark was heard all through the camp when a guard let slip that he’d been assaulted. Some claimed that he was unfit to be Hand of the King if he could be bested so easily, yet others also defended him, the man who had killed Ser Arthur Dayne. None but Lord Stark and the those around the king knew what really happened, or what Eddard told them.

“It was a surprise attack your grace. We were taken from behind as I went to behead the poor creature.” Eddard told his king while in the presence of King Robert, Queen Cersei, along with an assortment of Baratheon guards.

“Lies. You wanted to spare the wolf and now you’ve fabricated a story.” Cersei hissed from beside her husband who was visibly annoyed by the entire situation.

“How many men was it Ned?” Robert asked with a deep voice. Eddard didn’t answer, appearing weak before the King and his old friend would be fine, but in from of the Lannister woman was something he wouldn’t allow.

“May Her Grace be taken back to her quarters under guard first?” He asked making it sound at least like there were many and he was at least somewhat worried about her protection.

“You think you can order me Stark? Answer the Kin….”

“Go Cersei, this is something we men must discuss, privately.” Robert knew he’d be yelled at later, but he was the king, he could do whatever he wanted after all.

Cersei stormed from the room with red and gold flickering through the door, her long golden hair reminding Eddard of the girl that had assaulted him. Assaulted being used lightly as it was their plan even if the girl enjoyed it.

“Come Ned, you can speak now.” The room was empty save for the two old friends, and Eddard no longer feeling the need to lie spoke truthfully, mostly.

“It was single person Your Grace. I did manage to cut her hand with Ice, but it was never meant to be used in combat unless by someone with ridiculous strength.”

“Go back, did you say her? It was a woman that knocked out your man and attacked you before freeing the wolf?” Robert’s eyes were a mixture of anger and interest, hearing that his oldest friend was knocked down by a woman of all people.

“Yes Your Grace. She was quite strong and used only her fists.” _I sound like a complete fool._ He thought as Robert took in the information.

“Ned, a woman put you on your ass as well as split your lip and busted you nose? It must be because of what I was forced to make you to do. Ignore it and tell me what she looked like, I’ll have a bounty put on her head and the damned wolf’s too.” Ned bowed and smiled softly. _It’s not because I was distracted, maybe at first._ Eddard reflected, wondering how she did make it so close to him so fast.

“You already know what Lady looks like, but even though she is the gentlest of them, she is still a direwolf. As for the girl…” _Forgive me Robert._ “… she had black hair and hazel eyes, looked like either a Northerner or someone from the Riverlands.” He lied, giving the girl who had saved his daughter’s wolf yet hurt his pride and honour the best safety he could.

“Fucking hell, putting a bounty on a girl and an animal.” The king stood from his chair and walked beside Ned to the exit of the room that was the main hall. “What’ll I tell my damn wife. Cersei is sure to rob me of sleep tonight Ned.”

“Apologies Your Grace.”

“For fuck… Ned, we’re alone, drop this Your Grace crap.” He clapped his friend on the back, breaking Eddard’s worry and causing him to smile. “And I need an excuse not an apology.”

“A Northerner fanatic, someone that is now being hunted by both the King’s men and his Hand’s in the north?” He offered, doing his best to give Robert something.

“A fanatic that would not see the symbol of your house killed for something it didn’t do then. Ned, you need to get better at making stories. Kings landing isn’t as honest as the north.” With Robert’s warning and the course of action set, a search for a direwolf and a girl with black hair and hazel eyes set to begin with bounties on both of their heads.

Only one thing worried Eddard, what if some innocent was to be harmed by mistake. Either way as the hand the key witness he’d be able to deny whoever it was brought before him and if that girl Yang couldn’t control the wolf then it would likely find its own end.

* * *

** Pyrrha **

Pyrrha had been keeping track of the time she was on that world for. Over three weeks now and with everyday that passed she grasped onto the Dothraki language a little better. Understanding their customs was a lot easier than learning the language but hearing about their customs she found herself strongly against many of them.

Slavery had long ended within Remnants societies, or at least in public. She’d heard rumours of the underground criminals still using slaves, predominantly Faunus too. She found their way of cutting their braids off after a loss to be odd yet noble somehow. Their ways of treating women upset her in many ways, as did the age of which they were expected to start, breeding the old woman had told her. Once they had their first blood they were often said to be given to a strong male, the stronger the more honourable for the young girl.

But Pyrrha couldn’t imagine herself being given to a man after her first blood. Pyrrha had been twelve when it first happened to her, and hearing all of this now made her feel sick. She told the old woman who had eventually revealed her name to be Ezzi, which stood for some kind of learning.

And so for over three weeks Ezzi and Pyrrha remained constant companions with the older female teaching Pyrrha everything she could and answering many questions since she was the strongest in the village. They spoke in Dothraki when Pyrrha knew how and with her being encouraged to do so and not really having much of an option it only helped her learn faster. The need to be able to understand those around her giving her added drive to develop the understanding of the language and culture.

Though she did not only spend time with Ezzi, during parts of the day she would often go out and perform sword and spear patterns to keep her skills as sharp as she could. Physical training which included running up the many sand dunes and hills which stretched as far as the eye could see, but she never let the village slip from sight. She had faith in her sense of direction, but after sweating out a lot of fluid it was important she get some upon returning to the village.

The first time she returned to the village and gulped down a quarter of a bucket she was scolded and had things thrown at her. It was after another long discussion that she found out why. A simple reason really and one that Pyrrha publicly apologised for. Water was scarce and if she was to drink as much as she did then she’d need to help in the gathering of said water. And so, the four-time Champion of Mistral helped the women and children gather water every second day.

Using her semblance was out of the question as Ezzi spoke about magic and how it was apparently real. Pyrrha inquired and got answers, answers that told about how the Dothraki distrusted any kind of magic, hence the reason Pyrrha refused to use her semblance whenever any of the villagers were around.

Yet the two things about Pyrrha hat surprised the Dothraki villagers was one her strength, and two her kindness. The apology and offer to help was unexpected, her preference to help the children was also odd, even going as far as to teach many of the young boys a few moves to help them in the future. A couple of girls tried to join in too whenever Pyrrha had finished teaching the boys, but their father’s or guardians found out and quickly ended that.

It was a woman’s place to provide their family with cooking and cleaning and raising children while the males were charged with hunting and fighting. She got many glares for this since she had beaten their leader effortlessly. Yet their watchful eyes failed to bother her as she was a warrior at heart, a powerful and intelligent woman who would refuse to give in to their strange customs. She was a woman who would forge her own path and pick her own husband, if she ever found someone she considered worthy.

Yet one day the peaceful nature of the village and Pyrrha’s slow warming to the people within came to an end. A large number of men on horses were reported to the west and the villagers began to rush about taking down tents and gathering their supplies. At first Pyrrha was yelling out in English to try and get them to explain what the commotion was all about. It was only once she took a minute to stop and think that she tried to ask in their native tongue.

“What is going on? Why are you all in such a panic to pack everything up?” Her question seemed to fall on deaf ears, so she yelled again, and then a third time before being answered by the leader.

“Dothraki riders come, murderous warriors of a Khalasar. We move before the main force find us.” Orgo the leader responded. _But… The women and children… the sick and old…_ Pyrrha’s mind turned towards them as she knew these people didn’t have enough horses for everyone. And thanks to Ezzi telling her what would happen to smaller or even large settlements if a Khalasar befell them was terrifying.

Women raped by many different riders and left more often than not, carrying the child of one of the men that rode them against their will. Males were slaughtered so they’d never be a threat in the future, the boys too even the ones barely old enough to recall the tragic events. Those who did survive were made into slaves to be used by the Dothraki or to be sold to other masters. Pyrrha clenched her fists and made her decision.

“I will stay and hold them off while you lead your people away.” The look she got from Orgo was one of confusion. Groaning in embarrassment she spoke again, this time in Dothraki tongue. “I will stay and hold them off while you lead your people away.”

This time Orgo understood and moved before her. He put a hand on her shoulder and of all things bowed. Pyrrha knew that bowing especially from a male to a female in their culture was never done. It was only done from females to males, and from males only to those who were of greater strength as a sign of submission or respect to their Khal or leader.

With a final glance the two parted, the two strongest. One to lead and one to defend. Milo and Akouo floated into her hands where she gripped them fondly. Her only two friends that came from Remnant to this harsh and old world.

The sand and dirt kicked up as the horse riders approached, Pyrrha narrowed her eyes tempted to turn Milo into its rifle form and start taking a few of them out. _Save your ammo, you don’t know what else this world holds as of yet._ Deciding to let Milo maintain in its spear-like appearance she waited. With her aura activated she was about to find out how good these Dothraki riders were.

The first approached, the first of many. His arakh glided through the air with the added speed the horse gave his swing. But it was too slow for the off worlder who merely leaned to her right while creating a sweeping motion wither let arm that held Milo, that motion saw the horses left legs removed. A horrid scream came from the horse, but she had no time to stop as the second and third came for her. Each had seen the way Pyrrha moved and how she’d cut down their fellow rider but were eager to avenge him.

Neither succeeded and met similar ends. One had his leg removed while he rode by, Pyrrha’s blade slicing it cleanly yet scratched the horse too. The rider fell to the side crying out and speaking words that Pyrrha was yet to learn. The third rider got the biggest surprise as Pyrrha easily jumped up higher than his horse and with a nonchalant expression to boot. Her spear now coated with blood seem mostly red, the gold and bronze hidden by the fluid of her enemies. Even more so when the third had it driven through his chest.

She landed next to him looking at the sand and how the blood crept through it turning it red. Whinnies around her brought her back to the present in time to see a rider lining her up with his bow. It wasn’t a weapon she’d often gone against, but it was far slower than a gun. She let the arrow soar past her and threw her spear with ease. The rider clutched his stomach as the next was struck in his helmet by Akouo.

A hand on her shoulder spun her to the face of a dirty looking almond-eyed man. There was blood on his face and sand covering his leather clothing. An arakh in his dominant hand was raised and began to fall before Pyrrha saw it, or so the hopeful former rider thought. Pyrrha caught his wrist and although a female, her upbringing saw her trained by the best and most skilled fighters her parents and school could find. A prodigy amongst a world where hunters were usually the deadliest humans alive, and she was thought to potentially surpass all of them, the invincible girl.

Twisting his arm until he screamed and dropped his weapon, Pyrrha caught the arakh and opened his belly. His entrails spilled forth onto the ground and her bronze greaves. She felt sick the moment she did it, his skin being so soft and easily punctured. But there were still many more riders to deal with and they require her immediate attention.

The sand might have been a disadvantage, as well as being on foot while her attackers were on horseback. But as the time ticked by and the riders continued to circle her and attack in waves that grew larger each time, Pyrrha found the heat beating down on her, the thirst for water growing and the slow fatigue of her body. She didn’t know how long she was fighting or how many men she had killed or maimed, but when the last few scattered while she stood tall.

Sweat and blood, spit and entrails, her armour and other garments were dirtied with all of it and the sand that had miraculously found its way everywhere and was already irritating her. Emerald eyes scanned her surroundings, there was nothing by sand, dirt, a little grass and a small human and horse graveyard created by her own two hands.

Milo’s tip slipped into the sand easily and Akouo created a soft swoosh as it’s face met more sand. Pyrrha’s now empty hands covered with blood came up to her face as her knees buckled. The victor and death dealer fell to the earth with her knees sinking in. Her rear end sat atop her heels as she doubled over letting out a pained screech.

She wasn’t hurt in the least, her aura remained mostly full, but the pain she was experiencing wasn’t physical. Inside, her mind was stirring up all kinds of emotions and forcing her body to react. Guilt and sorrow, pride that swelled quickly in the defence of the villagers had her feeling sick and gagging between sobs. The four-time Champion of Mistral, that day marked the first time she’d killed anything other than a Grimm. And the fact she’d killed other humans hit her hard.

Before she could stand she added more contents to the sand as she emptied her stomach more than once. She was glad the others, the villagers couldn’t see her, glad that nobody could see her but Oum himself. But then, why had he sent her there, had he cast out one of his own creations to be tormented in this new world. All that surrounded Pyrrha was the death she’d dealt first hand, and a much larger force, the rider’s Khalasar that what few riders fled would be sure to contact. _Mum, dad… Jaune. Help me._ But none would hear Pyrrha’s prayers.


	7. Chapter 7

** Chapter #6: The Great Khal & Silver Khaleesi **

* * *

** Daenerys **

It had scarcely been two days since Daenerys Targaryen, had ordered her brother’s horse to be taken from him. It was a cruel punishment for who was the rightful King of the Iron Throne, but that throne was across the Narrow Sea and was occupied by the usurper Robert Baratheon. The man that had killed her and Viserys brother Rhaegar, a man that the knight’s former liege Lord found alongside in the rebellion that saw the Targaryen name nearly stricken from future records.

Ser Jorah Mormont was the name of this knight, a man who had sworn his sword to the ‘rightful’ king yet had chosen her over Viserys as both saw that the elder brother would be a poor choice to be king. Why not a queen instead, Daenerys was the next in line and with her marriage to Khal Drogo all that stood in the way was the Narrow Sea, boats to cross it, and the Dothraki omens that would show them favour in war.

Viserys had long held the nickname the Begger King, and now that his horse was taken by his younger sister and he was made to walk, what little if any respect he held in the Dothraki society was gone. As a man that didn’t ride couldn’t be called a man at all. He was mocked and ridiculed as he walked at the rear of the khalasar along with the sick and the old. She’d heard word that he would ride on the back of carts, further allowing himself to sink into a pit of mockery.

But it was around that time that news had reached the Khaleesi, Daenerys’ title among the Dothraki, the title gifted to her because of her marriage to the Khal, the greatest Khal with the largest khalasar in all of Essos. Word that several riders had met their end to a single warrior, a warrior that hadn’t even faulted at the great threat that opposed him.

Hearing this both Daenerys and Jorah made their way towards Khal Drogo and his bloodriders, a term that select warriors held after pledging their lives to a Khal. Once they held that title they were considered to be of the Khal’s blood.

None but she, her brother and Jorah spoke the common tongue among the Dothraki, at least not often. Her handmaidens knew the language she was more accustomed to and were teaching her Dothraki. But that didn’t concern her, what did was the news of this lone warrior that stood up to a group of Dothraki riders, considered by many to be the best horsemen in the world, hence the title horse lords.

“You are sending more after this warrior?” Daenerys asked in Dothraki at which her husband only nodded to. It had been a very one-sided marriage and Drogo barely spoke a word to her. Though after each long day of riding he’d take to his tent take at night and ride her until his seed spilled inside.

“Yes Khaleesi, we’ve sent another group twice as large as the previous.” Answered the bloodrider by the name of Haggo. _Twice as big against a single enemy? What kind of monster do they think he is?_ She wondered as a column of riders rode off in the distance with the past survivors leading the way.

“Khaleesi.” Came the words in common tongue, Ser Jorah. “Are you interested in seeing this warrior for yourself?” He asked gaining the attention of Khal Drogo who turned his horse towards them. Jorah bowed his head a little while Daenerys held her husband’s gaze.

“Yes, I would like to see if the rumours I’ve heard hold any truth. And if it is why kill this warrior?” The question didn’t seem to affect Drogo, but from her side Jorah wondered if Daenerys wanted to convince this warrior to join the khalasar her new husband commanded.

Without a word Drogo rounded and headed after the small horde of riders that had followed the survivors. Jorah now looked directly at her and smiled.

“You’re words have caused him to consider it, or perhaps he just wants to claim the kill of such a warrior to boost his already prodigious reputation?” Daenerys original optimism quickly turned to concern, if her husband killed this man then how could they make use of his skill.

She didn’t utter a single word as she kicked her horse into a gallop. The silver or her silver she’d named it because of its majestic colour, even though it wasn’t customary for the Dothraki to name their horses. White with a silver mane that was similar to her own silver hair, a duo that was destined to meet, to be Khaleesi and steed.

Her silver rivalled the speed of Drogo’s red stallion and because of her status she rode through the warriors that followed her husband. Yet as they followed the trail of riders Drogo slowed to a walk as they passed what must have been the first encounter with this warrior. Daenerys felt ill because of the sights before her. Even though she was travelling with the Dothraki and had seen many deaths right before her on her wedding day thanks to a Dothraki tradition, she still struggled. Especially once the birds and wild animals descended to feast on the fallen.

Horses and men lay side by side and scattered about as the wildlife consumed the meat of both without preference for one or the other. _He is a monster… to kill all of these people by himself._ Her attention flicked to her husband who also pulled his attention from the corpses of his fallen warriors. She wondered what was going through his mind but wouldn’t get the opportunity to ask as he pushed his stallion onwards.

By the time they caught up to the riders sent to kill the warrior they were already circling whoever it was. And not only was it Drogo and the warriors that had followed, but the Khalasar always followed where the Khal went. They too would pass the fallen men and horses and make do with what they could. Cut up the horses for meat, the most common food amongst the khalasar as weak horses or spares were often made into food for the horde.

It took a few minutes until Daenerys laid her eyes on the warrior in the centre of a whirlpool of Dothraki riders. She couldn’t make out the warrior from where she was but everyone around her was silent. She turned to speak to Jorah to find him having a stern expression on his face.

Flashes of red, glimmers of bronze and gold reflecting the sun were numerous as the onlookers watched the movements of the warrior who was expertly ducking, dodging and weaving between strikes from arakh and arrow alike. Daenerys couldn’t believe one man was responsible for so much death as rider after rider fell from their horse. Murmuring started amongst the onlookers and finally Jorah made eye contact with her.

“They’re asking to fire their arrows, to avenge their fallen comrades, or something close to that.” He spoke in a serious tone, but there was something underlying it, something Daenerys often remembered filled her own voice only weeks ago, fear.

 _He’s scared… they’re all scared of whoever that is._ And it was for a good reason, none of the men there, even Drogo himself couldn’t have bested that many riders and still kept going. He might be the great Khal, but it wasn’t because he was just strong, he knew which fights to pick and which to leave. Which is why when the riders trying to kill the warrior fled he gave the order for those with bows to unleash a volley.

They were well within range but the order surprised Daenerys greatly. Her great husband ordering the death of… of this inhuman warrior in a dishonourable way. _No, you can’t, you shouldn’t._ She wanted to yell but held her tongue as she knew her words wouldn’t sway him at this point.

A long hum of twangs sounded as bowstrings were released and arrows began to fly towards their intended target. Daenerys didn’t want to watch, didn’t want to see such a brave sole who stood up to a khalasar be taken down in such a way. _Gods greet you warmly._ She prayed as she watched the arrows begin to fall.

The ones that falling short landed first making it look like a collapsing ceiling as they impaled the ground getting closer to the lone warrior. Her heart filled with sorrow as the arrows started falling around the warrior who had raised a single hand for a reason that was unknown to those watching.

As the last arrows fell a short distance behind the warrior, he didn’t fall, and a murmur turned into yelling from the Dothraki horde that was near surrounding the warrior now. There was a scream that echoed from where the warrior stood and then another volley from the encircling horde.

Daenerys screamed this time as the arrows began to cloud the sun above the warrior. She moved next to her husband and put a hand on his forearm, thick and strong, scarred and muscular. He commanded a halt, but it was too late, there was no chance the target wouldn’t be so lucky as to avoid all of those arrows a second time. But as Daenerys turned to watch his end she saw something unusual, the arrows above were all pushed back by an invisible force and fell meters from where they were fired with a few striking horses and riders alike.

It was like the gods themselves had descended to spare this warrior his life but pushing the arrows back from once they came. It was either that or magic, and while the Dothraki disliked magic, Daenerys herself didn’t believe in it. But she couldn’t just ignore what had happened, the arrows were forced backwards and the Dothraki bows had a lot of draw power behind them.

In silence Drogo started to move forwards, his bloodriders flanking him and Daenerys was quick to follow. Jorah came after her as he had taken up the role of her personal protector. As they rode closer the warrior got into a fighting stance, shield raised, and sword pointed their way. Blood coated him, the blood from dozens of Dothraki and their horses.

Drogo stopped close to the warrior, a few meters and out of range, or so they all thought. Daenerys appeared at his side and for a moment she thought she was seeing something. That was until the shield lowered and a feminine looking face was revealed, it wasn’t until an exchange started that she and the others discovered the true gender of this warrior. Female, alone, and clearly skilled in combat to inhuman levels.

The Dothraki, Daenerys and Jorah were stunned silent. A woman of all things had bested so many and still looked like she was ready to keep fighting. _She’s… incredible._ Daenerys found herself wishing she had strength like that, the strength to physically oppose men and end them, she could take her families throne back with ease.

“You should come and eat with me. I offer you my protection and the protection of my husband if you’ll join me this night.” The girl with bloodied red hair looked to her, fear in her emerald eyes and her body shaking from what was likely exhaustion.

“I want to hear it from his mouth, otherwise I’ll fight… until… until someone stops me.” Her voice sounded strained and sad, again Daenerys found something in the warrior’s eyes that she could relate to, sadness.

“He doesn’t speak the common tongue.” She said looking to Drogo who was clearly listening. What happened next surprised her and the others.

“Feed me, bathe me, swear your protection… and no more lives need to be wasted.” The woman offered her terms in almost fluent Dothraki. It was only then that Drogo spoke, and it was more than the word, no, which she’d heard him say on many occasions to her.

“I swear it, but you will obey my Khaleesi. She is the only reason you live, for now.” He rode away after that and the girl turned her attention to Daenerys and Jorah.

“You speak Dothraki well.” Jorah commented carefully.

“I’m still new to it.” The warrior answered, properly lowering her weapons, drying her sword on the clothing of a man she’d killed.

“As am I. Where did you come from?” The woman smiled and looked up with a soft expression, something else the Khaleesi didn’t expect.

“Provide my terms, and then we’ll speak privately.” So without even a name for the warrior who’d stood up to the might of the Dothraki and survived more than was possible, Daenerys ordered her given a horse for the ride and for her to be given a wide berth as to not intimidate or cause any more need for caution or violence.

* * *

** Pyrrha **

It was nightfall when Pyrrha got to bathe. And it wasn’t much either, warmed up water and multiple cloths and a small tent to herself. She was given a few slaves to tend her but quickly sent them out save for one younger girl. She couldn’t reach her back and needed it cleaned too. So together with the smaller girl Pyrrha stripped near naked, her bra and panties the only thing remaining on until her back had been washed.

Excusing the girl only then did she fully strip and make sure everywhere was cleaned to a high standard. The water had to be replaced several times over because of all the blood that had covered her, she even cleaned Milo and Akouo, along with her armour too. She had gotten into the habit to maintain her gear and that wasn’t about to change.

Though once she was finished and had washed her hair and dried herself off, she found the clothing that was provided not to be to her liking. _Don’t complain, you kill so many of their friends, you killed… you… killed._ With clean hands she covered her face and sat there crying softly. She didn’t want to be heard, but she couldn’t hold herself back as she recalled the events of the two battles along with the sights and sounds that accompanied them. She’d vomited more than once on the riding and now she spilled air as she threw up next to nothing in a dry retch.

Her mind was a mess and she still needed to get dressed. Her own clothing dirtied and in need of a real wash she pulled on what was provided. A leather vest with a fur binding her breasts in place of a bra. They didn’t provide her with panties though so Pyrrha felt a little vulnerable only wearing the sandsilk trousers. The sandals were odd with their laces climbing up to just below the knee but leaving the foot open.

Beside that a small variety of perfumes of which she chose the one that smelled best to her nose. She needed the stench of blood gone, the smell of the entrails she’d spilled still clung to her lightly even after the wash. She put her armour in a sack and carried her sword in hand, her shield appearing to be bound to her back while in reality she held it there with her semblance, the reason why she still lived was that very powerful semblance.

As she appeared before the Kahleesi’s tent she waited to be allowed in. One of the handmaids at the entrance ducked inside with a fearful look on her face. Pyrrha understood why, a person who had killed over three dozen men was standing before the door to what was the equivalent of a queen. Still, she held herself high and endured the glaring she received from the men, women, and even the children outside.

“The Khaleesi will see you now.” The handmaiden said as she re-emerged. Pyrrha gave a gentle nod and entered the tent. It was much larger than her own as it was in fact the Khal’s, though he didn’t come in until he wished to sleep or ride his wife.

“Your hair is still bloody… or is red your natural colour?” The woman Pyrrha learned was called Daenerys asked.

“Natural, my world has some, odd hair colours.” She said taking a seat on the cushion opposite the Khaleesi.

“Your world?” Was the second question she’d received in seconds. “Blood red hair, its kind of beautiful now I know it’s not blood.”

With the question still floating in the air Pyrrha knew she’d have little choice but to explain it or try to dodge it when it inevitably would come up again. So with a deep breath she started to explain where she’d come from, a different world, their nations, the enemies the Grimm, how she spend her first month with a small village.

Daenerys listened closely for which Pyrrha was thankful for. She told this Khaleesi about the school she was at, a school that trained people to become skilled hunters from young ages and how she was thought to be a prodigy, she didn’t like to be thought of as that though, it made her life feel as though others already knew what she was. A sword, a shield, a weapon to be directed at the Grimm and if need be, rogue hunters.

“So when did you kill your first man?” Daenerys asked bluntly causing Pyrrha to flinch. The champion looked away and closed her eyes.

“Today… I never wanted to kill another human… Grimm, I’d kill them in an instant.” She said hoarsely, her voice being chocked by the tightness she felt within her throat, if she had anything left it would have come up as she retched again making Daenerys recoil swiftly to avoid something that never came.

“You’d never… You did really well.” Daenerys answered, giving the woman before her praise.

“I did well? I did well?! I killed people and you think I did well?!” Pyrrha yelled as she stared down a now terrified little girl. Pyrrha wanted to keep yelling, to call this child immoral and sick, but she’d learned from Ezzi that things in this world were not nearly as humane as they were on her world of Remnant.

She sunk back onto the cushion and looked away from the little girl. Violet eyed and silver haired, she was unlike any of the other people she’d seen in the horde, the khalasar as it was called. She suddenly felt a little sick that she was sitting next to a Khaleesi while there were probably slaves all around her. _Those handmaidens…. They’re slaves?_ She thought to herself as she looked back at the child before her.

“How old are you?” Pyrrha asked.

“Thirteen. I’ll be fourteen shortly.” Daenerys answered. Pyrrha coughed as her eyes widened. The man she’d seen and was told was the Khal, the leader of this horde was her husband which meant…

“I’m so sorry.” Pyrrha whispered to which Daenerys looked back confused.

“For what exactly?”

“Your so young… yet you’re already married… Does he… well… do things?” Pyrrha’s cheeks went red as she asked, but she was only trying to discover if what Ezzi had told her about the culture was true. Daenerys blushed but softly smiled.

“You’re more innocent that you appear. Yes, Drogo has on every night including our wedding night, had me.” The answer was enough to rend Pyrrha silent. This girl, barely a teen was being used every night and was, ok with it. _This world is wrong, these people are strange._ Pyrrha thought as she looked at the strange clothing she was wearing.

“How old are you then? And what is your name?” Daenerys now asked of her quest, the slaughterer of dozens of her husband’s men.

“Pyrrha Nikos, four-time Champion of the Mistral Regional Tournament. I turn eighteen… within a few months.” She answered as accurately as she could. She still needed to find a calendar for this world, so she could plot out the dates of certain events back on Remnant.

“Seventeen and you’re still a virgin. Your world is very strange.”

“That’s fairly normal. Yours is the strange world. Married off when you start to bleed. On Remnant we got to choose when and who we married.” Pyrrha countered with a glare.

“Well you’re not there so you’re the weird one.” Daenerys answered sounding, jealous of Pyrrha’s options. “And what is this four-time champion thing?”

Pyrrha sighed and went into detail after accepting that in this world, she was indeed the odd one out. She explained how it was held once every year and there were age groups. Hers was where she competed against people who hadn’t yet gone to a hunters academy and for four straight years she’d beaten every opponent and defended her title as champion.

Even Daenerys knew that it was a big deal, it was like winning a tournament that knights and nobles always participated in. And for four years the girl, woman sitting before her looking dejected and alone had won. But for Pyrrha it didn’t matter anymore, or so she tried to convince herself.

Daenerys had many questions for Pyrrha over the course of the night and even as the food was brought in for them to eat she questioned the off worlder. Pyrrha looked at the food and grabbed some meat. Taking a bite she hummed and tried to place its taste. _Its strange… but not bad at all._

“Its horse meat, enjoy.” There was a coughing from Pyrrha and a burst of laughter from Daenerys as she too had once reacted the way Pyrrha did upon discovering what it was. Pyrrha put it aside for a time, but the hunger from all the fighting won out and she reluctantly ate more than a little, along with the water that was provided.

The night didn’t last much longer, not for Pyrrha anyway as her eyes started to droop. The energy she’d needed to expend today was far more than her usual, not to mention the mental strain that killing humans had on her. It had all taken its toll and reduced her to a slumped pile of muscle, flesh and bone that needed to turn in and rest.

“Excuse me, Daenerys. I’m going to go to bed.” Pyrrha mumbled, pushing herself to her feet.

“It’s Khaleesi.” Daenerys snapped and got a nonchalant look from Pyrrha.

“Their Khaleesi, not mine. Goodnight, Daenerys.” She said once again before heading to the door of the tent.

“I didn’t say you could go!” The young teen called out again, still wanting to talk with someone other than Jorah or her unresponsive husband. But Pyrrha didn’t even bother with a reply as she disappeared out the door and back to her small tent.

Once inside she let her things drop to the ground with a clatter and flopped onto what was the Dothraki version of a bed for a guest. Some straw with a sheet over it and a small blanket for the night. She lay there for a while, too long as the thoughts of the day started to creep back into her mind. She started to cry, softly as she used the sheet to muffle her sorrow. By the time she’d cried herself to sleep there was a large portion of the sheet that was wet through.

It was near midday the next morning when a man rode up beside her, she was separate from the khalasar as she was not part of it, but Daenerys wanted her to accompany them and even though she didn’t want to, Pyrrha didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“The Khaleesi has told me about you. Pyrrha Nikos not of this world.” His voice sounded unconvinced, too bad Pyrrha didn’t care.

“Believe… what you will.” She croaked, her voice soft and strained as the crying last night had taken its toll on her ability to speak. Jorah look at her and nodded.

“She also told me yesterday was a first for you. I remember when I killed my first man. It was…”

“Don’t care. It’s wrong.” She croaked again, a tear already trickling from her left eye. _Stupid man, who is trying to impress._

“… It was horrible. I had nightmares about it for weeks. Woke in cold sweats and felt sick every time I though about it.” His looked at the red-haired beauty. “What I’m saying is, I know how you feel, just don’t let it drag you down for too long. Otherwise you’ll be the one ending up dead in your next fight.

Pyrrha smiled at that. _I doubt there’s actually anyone here than can beat me._ She watched him ride forwards and to the side of Daenerys, the woman who had offered her husband’s protection to her, her who killed so many.

After a few days of riding with the khalasar, Pyrrha was granted permission to ride closer and beside the best warriors there were to offer, and right behind Drogo’s bloodriders. She wasn’t being trusted even though each night she’d spent time with Daenerys and never once laid a hand on her.

During the day long rides it was usually Jorah who spoke to her from time to time, and answered questions she had about the land he came from, the seven kingdoms across the Narrow Sea. Life there sounded more civilised that where they were and slavery was illegal there.

She couldn’t help but wonder why none of the kings in the past hadn’t travelled across, but Essos was much bigger than Westeros, even if a large portion of it was ruler and roamed by the Dothraki. It was no surprise when Jorah told her that he though any invading army that came across the Dothraki hordes would lose from his experienced point of view.

The Dothraki were numerous and all rode horses from birth. Excellent warriors on horse and the horseman had the advantage over a foot soldier. And not only that but the majority of Dothraki could also use the bow from horseback and were quite efficient. She recalled the arrows that were fired at her while she was fighting and nodded her head in agreement, and army on foot would have a hard time competing against them, even if they had long spears and good armour, and plenty of shields to protect themselves from arrow volleys.

She even got to the point where both Jorah and Daenerys were at her flanks, both wanting to know what it was that saved Pyrrha’s life as the arrows bolted towards her days ago from every angle. She first informed them that it was no form of magic, for the people of her world it was common place for hunters to possess abilities, semblances that helped them in combat as well as what was an aura.

She went on to tell them that her semblance had allowed her to redirect the arrows away from her. How she didn’t tell them, but after sending out a large dome pulse she could use her ability to redirect the arrows away from her, though she admitted to herself that she’d sent some too far and struck many of the shooters. Needless to say, both Jorah and Daenerys were stunned that she had such an ability and wanted to know the extent of what she could do. But Pyrrha denied them, knowing someone’s semblance could mean the difference between winning and losing, and here in this new world, life or death for the strange Remnite.

As Day turned to night and night to day and so on, Pyrrha came to be able to speak to some of the khalasar members, mostly she involved herself with the slaves. She wanted to understand them, free them, but she couldn’t or else the horse lords would turn on her and even with her skill, semblance and aura, she doubted she could beat the twenty thousand plus strong army. She had no idea of its actual size but imagined it to be bigger still.

On one of these nights on the way to her tent after speaking to and helping some of the slaves she stumbled across an unpleasant sight and sound. Her tent being so close to the Khal’s so she’d heard it before, but this time, this time what she saw had her feeling ill and confused. The young girl of thirteen, the Khaleesi, Daenerys Targaryen was naked atop her husband in eyesight of many Dothraki and under the night sky with what was surely her husband’s member inside her.

She scanned the area to see the other Dothraki watching and felt terribly embarrassed for the girl, but at the same time, it looked as though Daenerys was in control. _Did she make him go outside? Doesn’t she feel the eyes of everyone on her?_ She asked herself before tearing her eyes away from the sight before her and the rest of those watching.

She returned to the confines of her tent and climbed into bed with a piece of cooked horse meat, something she’d quickly become accustomed to since it was required, their main source of meat. She was almost finished when she heard Drogo call out Daenerys name, she knew he’d finished and gagged on the meat. She still couldn’t comprehend the culture, how young girls like Daenerys could be married off to a man like Drogo. A warlord and obviously older than her. He was in his prime and she was but a child, a child that was already in charge of far more than Pyrrha thought she should be.

Thankfully after that and a little cheering the night began to die down enough for Pyrrha to get to sleep. Milo and Akouo beside her along with her armour. She always kept them close just in case she needed to make a quick getaway. As was common place now, her thoughts drifted back a several days to when she killed all those men. They might have been attacking and attempting to kill her yes, but she didn’t need to kill them. _I could have just injured them right? I could have made them not want to fight me and they could have all lived._

Tears again stained pale cheeks and sheets alike as her sorrow found its way out. A warrior and hero, a role model person to younger children and even adults on the world of Remnant was nothing more than a confused and scared girl in Essos. Her new home where she was left alone, her team and family, her friends all abandoning her to this barbaric wasteland where women were used and killing was seen as strength. But where others saw strength and pride, Pyrrha saw wasted lives, energy, the breaking of families and the loss of loved ones. _Mum. Dad. Help me survive here, help me prosper._ _Oum… forgive me for what I’ve done._


	8. Chapter 8

** Chapter #7: New Recruits & Nora Meets The King **

* * *

** Jon **

Departing from Winterfell was harder than Jon had imagined it. Saying goodbye to Bran was difficult thanks to Catelyn being ever present. Still, he’d gotten through it and told his unconscious brother that he’d see him soon, dressed in black since he was indeed going to join the Night’s Watch.

Catelyn, Lady Stark had told him to leave but he spoke a few more words and kissed his brother on his forehead before passing his father as he left, the man who had dishonoured Catelyn so many years ago resulting in Jon.

From there he made his way to Arya’s room where he had a small surprise he got the Castle blacksmith. Entering the room, he was pleased to find only himself and Arya, and her direwolf Nymeria of course. It wasn’t a long goodbye and he promised that they’d see one another again one day, then he presented her with the gift.

A small skinny sword similar to Arya’s sword instructor, the white-haired girl from another world, the one who had bested him so easily even though he had been trained alongside Robb by the castle’s master-at-arms. Arya seemed to enjoy the skinny sword and with him giving her the first lesson, “Stick em with the pointy end.” Arya proceeded to hug him, after having to put her new sword down. She’d name it Needle, since her big brother told her all great swords had names.

Parting with Robb proved taxing. His brother of the same age and heir to Winterfell, his best friend. Snow and Stark, the same blood flowed through them with only their names differing for their father’s misdeed. A tight embrace and an understanding between them Robb had departing to attend other matters, the Lord of Winterfell while their father was in the south, surrounded by stags and lions.

He along with Tyrion Lannister and two of his guards accompanied his uncle Benjen alongside the King’s company until the road from Winterfell split north and south, Jon’s party heading north to the Wall and his future. As they split he hung back to talk with his father, Eddard Stark. His questions were of his mother. Where she was, if she lived, if she even cared. But even then, as Jon was about to head north and swear himself to the Night’s Watch, Eddard hadn’t told him a thing, the only hope he had was the talk he’d been promised the next time they met.

After that it was just the few of them travelling north and even though their destination was much closer than the King’s, it still took them over a week to reach the Wall. Each night they’d camp, and Jon would try to learn more of the Night’s Watch, listen to stories his uncle told. Sometimes he’d even talk with the Lannister man, the dwarf Tyrion. It was a rocky relationship since Jon was going to swear his life to the Night’s Watch while Tyrion seemed to mock either it or him with every sentence.

But as the nights continued and they spoke more often, he began to see that Tyrion was much like himself. Jon was a bastard and Tyrion had said all dwarves were bastards in their father’s eyes. Tyrion unlike Jon couldn’t well fight with a sword, so he’d read and fight with his wits instead. Jon particularly liked one phrase Tyrion had uttered. “A mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone.” Jon’s sulky expression seemed to fade for a time, until he was reminded of the two others that were accompanying them, rapers, two of them destined to be his new brothers at the Wall.

Still, he’d been told there was a lot of honour to be had in joining the Night’s Watch, a Stark had manned the Wall for over a thousand years and although he didn’t have the name, his blood was the same.

As he first laid his eyes not on Castle Black but the wall itself, he was stunned. It was like ice only higher than he’d imagined. He’d been told of its incredible height but couldn’t belief it, not until that moment, the moment his eyes couldn’t be torn from the magnificence of the icy structure that reached for the sky, but also stretched further than he could see.

He got plenty of time to look at it, the different levels that the Wall showed. The base was the thickest, but it remained just as thick until a certain pint before digging in and going up yet again. A tier system where the old commanders built up the wall making it higher and higher over the generations, each time a small ledge was left behind once construction was completed.

As he got closer and got a good look at the castle, his heart sank. It looked old and unkept, broken and in desperate need of repair. Someone screamed for the gate to be opened, a man of the Night’s Watch and the door did indeed creak open. Snow was everywhere outside, and inside what was a tiny castle there was even more. It mixed with the dirt and looked slippery.

Old men and young gazed at the men that entered. One who was first ranger, three which were taking the black. One a Lannister lord and his two Lannister protectors. A wagon of supplies and a few horses as gifted from Eddard accompanied them too, a gift for the Night’s Watch to use how they pleased. But Jon couldn’t believe what he was seeing, nothing about the castle looked glorious, yet the cage up a flight of stairs and the wooden pillars that stretched up the walls caught his interest.

“Returned with some fresh boys Benjen. Scared little boys, they won’t…” The man’s voice was cut off at the sight of Jon’s direwolf, the one thing he refused to leave behind. His white wolf with blood red eyes that he could see instilled fear in the man who’d been talking.

“Show the boys their sleeping quarters and around the castle. Find them each a cloak, especially the southern boys.” Jon looked at the two who were said to be rapists and felt ill. “Unload the wagon and tend to the horses. We’ll be needing them strong and healthy.” Benjen said as he dismounted the horse and made his way towards an older man, tall, broad shouldered, a crow on his shoulder.

They went inside while Jon was stared at, he felt uneasy, no one in the castle looked at all honourable, not like his uncle and father had said at all. Where he’d be sleeping was a shared room where there were many bedrolls laid out next to one another. Each were coated with thick furs to keep their occupant warm overnight. _They lied to me… they all, lied to me._ He thought as he just looked the place over.

There he was, the son of a high lord swearing into the same brotherhood as rapists and thieves and murderers. _Honour, they call this honour. This is where criminals come to… to survive._ He though as he was ushered out into the cold and down into the centre of the courtyard. There he stood alongside the newest recruits, about a dozen, a few more and he knew he was the best one there, the only who “deserved” to be there.

Another old man came before them. Slim but tall, unsmiling with black eyes to match his grey streaked black hair. Jon felt something, fear? Respect? Something that he didn’t like, something was telling him that this man was not going to make his life easy at the Wall.

“Look at you lot. Filthy criminals the lot of you. Wanting to join the watch to save your own skin.” Jon couldn’t help but agree with this old man, most of the recruits were criminals, all save for him as far as he knew.

“I’m Ser Alliser. I’m the master-of-arms here and will be in charge of teaching you how to fight. How to be men.” This Jon knew, he had been trained for years to use a sword and this would be the perfect opportunity for him to show how useful he was to the Night’s Watch.

“Go to the armoury and put on the training gear and grab a blunted blade…. Now!” He roared making the recruits scurry towards the armoury. Jon followed suit, some of the recruits had been there longer than him and the two newest additions, but that didn’t matter to Jon. _I’ll beat them all, I’ll show uncle Benjen that I’m going to be a ranger. I will be a ranger._

* * *

** Ren **

Ren’s time at the Wall hadn’t been enjoyable, but it had been interesting. He learned where he was and quickly came to accept it as truth since the old man, Jeor Mormont was his teacher, a man old in age but kind and hard. They’d shared information, mostly it was the old bear, a name for his sigil. A black bear on a white field, surrounded by a green.

He was balding and sporting a rather impressive beard, and he was even taller than Ren. He held an imposing figure when walking, even when sitting upright, it was no wonder that many under his command showed him respect.

Then there was the pet raven that was always with him. He’d feed it treats once in a while it would repeat some words it recognised. Sometimes this annoyed Jeor, but Ren held his composed face. It was his pet and there wasn’t anything one could do to such it up. Unless one killed the bird or tied its beck shut carefully.

His time at the wall had shown Ren a few things, the people there didn’t have an aura and that there were very few who were gifted with the ability to wield a blade with a decent amount of skill. That the cold was the most dangerous thing and the food these men of the Night’s Watch ate was sub-par. He longed for the food of Remnant, to make pancakes for Nora again, and never again would he drink the swill that they called ale.

He’d been given clothing that fit him well enough, at five feet nine inches tall he wasn’t a very tall person by Westerosi standards with many of the men either around his height or taller, though that seemed to differ depending on their race. First men, Andals, Rhoynar to name a few, each race having different traits that had mixed over the hundreds, thousands of years. He was cloaked in black despite not taking the black, it was the best colour for someone at The Wall. He had been challenged to a couple of fights by a few of the more bold, proud, or brothers who thought highly of themselves.

At first, he accepted and used a sword in his first fight. He used it well enough to a near draw, but for his second he reverted to StormFlower, his pair of automatic pistols that had blades extending from the front but in a downwards direction. The weapons were alien to the Night’s Watch, but as Ren showed them how expertly he could use them in easily defeating his next couple of opponents, the challenges stopped and he returned to being quiet and observant.

That was until some new arrivals showed up at the wall. Five new faces and one returning face belonging to Benjen Stark whom he’d met and spoken with a little since he was first ranger. Though they had never fought, many of the other men told Ren that this person would be able to defeat him. But alongside him were men dressed very differently, and one being rather stumpy in stature.

The two most notable were dressed in red and golden armour on either side of what he had to believe was a dwarf. He would learn later his name and family but for that moment he turned his attention to the other three. Two looked uncomfortable while the other looked rather young, younger than him yet had a cloak of his own. _At least he’s come prepared._

While they were quickly taken away and within the hour showing what they were made of, Ren just watched in a room protected from the cold winter winds. He along with those watching, notably Alliser Thorne the master-at-arms took a particular interest in the one showing the most promise in his fighting ability, the youngest looking one, the one who had come prepared with a thick warm cloak of his own.

It was then that the door to his little room opened and he looked to find Jeor Mormont enter alongside the dwarf who had accompanied the party. Ren took another glance at the training yard and shifted his focus to the two older men.

“This is Lie Ren. A stranger from another world.” Jeor introduced Ren to the dwarf who gave an interested yet disbelieving look. “And this is Lord Tyrion Lannister.” Introducing Tyrion to Ren this time.

“Another world? Undiscovered land or from beyond the wall perhaps?” Tyrion suggested as both could be considered other worldly considering the difference in culture and lack of knowledge and understanding.

“Another world Tyrion, we’ve spoken enough for me to believe that this boy isn’t from anywhere on this world.” Jeor said with great sincerity.

“He spoke with you, then if he has a tongue he can speak with me too. Tell me boy, where are you from?” Ren looked to Jeor then at the dwarf called Tyrion as he answered.

“A world called Remnant. A shattered moon was in the sky each night, not a full one like here in Westeros.”

“A shattered moon you say. Has there ever been a shattered moon before Mormont?” The dwarf asked.

“Not to my knowledge. Like I said, I believe him to be of a different world.” Jeor said again, reinforcing his belief in the matter.

“Then how did you get here?” Tyrion asked getting a little more curious, a curiosity which wouldn’t be sated.

“I don’t know. I woke up after what was a large storm I’m told. I was in a patch of dirt with snow around me and the Wall within view. I walked along it until I arrived here.” Ren told Tyrion exactly what had happened on his arrival in Westeros and the dwarf only sighed.

“I think I need a drink, maybe I’ll attain an understanding or formulate some kind of believable story I can make myself believe.” He smiled at the boy knowing he could never believe such a lie, there wasn’t any way for people from other worlds to find them, they’d fall from the sky and die trying to get there.

“Come along boy, regale me with tails from this, world of yours.” His tone was filled with sarcasm as he showed his disbelief.

“I don’t think I will. I tried it once and didn’t like the taste.” Ren said very calmly, ignoring the mockery in the dwarf’s voice.

“Then I shall break out some of the wine I’ve brought with me! True southern wine of the highest quality.” He boasted while waddling towards the door. Ren thought about it for a moment before the sound of practice blades clashing made his mind.

“I won’t be going you Tyrion. I’d rather not have my judgement impaired by alcohol.” His lack of using titles was noted by the dwarf who narrowed his eyes.

“Suit yourself. You’re missing out on some great stories.” Tyrion claimed again as the two older men left the room. Ren just turned back to the yard, the boy again dealing out a beating to his fellow newcomers and even those who were recruits but arrived before him.

 _Lannister. Lords of the… Westerlands? Capital is… Casterly Rock._ Ren tapped his left arm as his arms were crossed beneath the cloak. He’d been reading up on the noble houses at Commander Mormont’s request and had finally placed the little lord. _Wealthy, old house, a warden house._ He smiled as he knew he’d remembered correctly, or at least thought he did, he’d later check with Commander Mormont.

Days passed as Ren continued to watch and to learn. He had memorised the names of a few of the new recruits. Jon, Pypar more commonly known as Pyp. There was Grenn too and Rast, all three had been taking beatings from Jon and with little improvement he could see their anger.

Tyrion had come and watched beside him from time to time, commenting how Jon looked impressive because the others likely didn’t hold a sword before joining. Ren had to agree, trained by a master-at-arms, even then it still looked too easy.

Then one day it all seemed to change, the anger was still there from the other three, but Jon started instructing them on how to fight, how to hold their weapons. Even Ser Alliser had taken to watching from the side lines while his recruits trained. It was slow and painful, more so for the recruits as Jon could still handily beat them even after days of help. It was then that Ren approached Tyrion.

“Tyrion. What happened for Jon to change his attitude?” He asked, recalling Jon’s initial attitude when he arrived. He dominated the other recruits and made himself seem tall, better than the others.

“Who knows. Perhaps they had a talk in their quarters. Perhaps they asked Jon to teach them.” The dwarf shrugged, Ren caught sight of his smile.

“I don’t think so. I’ve been watching and…”

“What exactly do you do here child? I’ve only ever seen you watching, eating, and sleeping.” Tyrion looked up to Ren who while not looking grim like many of the men at Castle Black, he did look bored.

“As I said, he approached them and offered instruction. Your influence?” Ren stared down at the dwarf.

“You know, I might be able to find out if you show me your skill. I take it you can fight?” Ren gave the smallest smile and descended the steps making his way towards the recruits. _He did something, and I want to see how good this Jon Snow is for myself._ Jon and the others saw him approaching and having seen him and heard he was supposedly strong all stood on edge. Ren removed his cloak putting it on the top of a wooden beam that was the staircase’s railing and pulled out StormFlower.

“Jon Snow. I want to see if you’re as talented as you seem. Would you spare against me, you can use real steel if it will help your confidence.” Ren said as someone brought a sharp blade over and offered it to Jon.

“Who are you?” Jon asked while taking the sword from its scabbard.

“Lie Ren, a visitor.” He raised his weapons and walked forwards with a plain expression plastered on. Jon took the hint and fought back without any more hesitation after taking the sharp blade. His swings weren’t as heavy and forced like when Weiss bested him so easily, he’d reined himself in a little, but a little wasn’t anywhere near enough for Ren who toyed with Jon for a few moments.

It finished when he slid under a horizontal strike and sprung up, tapping Jon on the back of his neck with a finger. Jon turned looking stunned and a little bit angry. Ren put his weapons away and nodded. There was no point in continuing for now, he’d just shown Jon that he would have had a blade through his neck if it were a real fight.

“You’re better than I thought, and you younger too so you have a lot of room for improvement.” He said, letting Jon know that he was truly testing him and seeing what potential he might have.

“How did you do that? I thought you slipped over.” Jon asked.

“Training, though I don’t think you should try it, keep working with your sword and one day maybe.” Ren grabbed his cloak and put it back around himself, holding it tightly and waiting for it to heat back up. He made his way back to Tyrion and looked down at him.

“Well that was impressive. It looked like you weren’t even trying.” Tyrion said, trying not to sound impressed with how this other worlder moved.

“I wouldn’t call it not trying. I was gauging his ability, much like I had done to me on a regular basis at Beacon.” Again the meeting of swords drew his attention back to the yard, Jon, along with Pyp and Grenn seemed fired up, there was a new energy about them, a new drive that Ren knew he was partly responsible for.

“Beacon? What is this Beacon, a sign perhaps?” The dwarf asked, he had so many questions for Ren, and so many that Ren simply ignored.

“It is a school on Remnant, in the kingdom of Vale. It served as one of four academies that was responsible for the training of huntsmen and huntresses. I was attending my first year there when I arrived… here.” Although a first-year student he was already well beyond the skill of the majority of the population on Remnant, and his training was done by a strong woman, two for that matter.

Professor Glynda Goodwitch, the combat instructor and supervisor for Beacon Academy. And Pyrrha Nikos, Ren’s teammate and four-time champion of Mistral. Both women were leagues above everyone, in the very highest echelons of hunters and arguably the world, especially Pyrrha who was treated like royalty in Mistral and had a reputation that reach almost every part of Remnant, the invincible girl.

“A school that trains children to fight, how ridiculous. The families must have been very wealthy or powerful to send their children there.” Ren shook his head.

“The schools didn’t cost a thing. I had nothing when my sister and I joined. They provided shelter, three meals a day, training both physically, though their teachings were more about what we’d be facing when we graduated. The Grimm.” His mind flashed back to the black furred and white boned beasts that had red eyes and markings.

“The schools paid? That doesn’t seem very profitable, and they train women.” Tyrion sounded very confused by the concept of it which made Ren a little happy.

“Part of the taxes went to keeping the schools running but each nation probably did it their own way.”

“They used the common folks taxes to put nobodies through schooling, training, for what?” His arms gestures showed further confusion, a lack of understanding.

“Huntsmen and huntresses are trained and eventually paid to keep the human race safe from the creatures of Grimm. Beasts as small as birds and as large as elephants. They were everywhere. Land, air, and the sea. Hunters are a necessity on Remnant, and the better the hunter the more dangerous jobs they or their team could take.” He wondered what kind of jobs his team would take, with Pyrrha they could probably take on nearly any job as an independent team or even as pairs.

“So these, hunters, they’re like the Night’s watch?” Tyrion asked.

“I suppose they share some similarities. Protecting the people from threats, not getting involved in politics. Save for a few that disobeyed this law.”

“Don’t tell me they had to become celibate like these fools?” Tyrion laughed at the thought of it. Ren had heard some of this man’s tales, his conquest of women from all over Westeros and learned that the vows the Night’s Watch took meant no family, no lovers.

“No. The majority of hunters would marry if they weren’t killed before that time. Some like others wouldn’t find their significant other. Sometimes there were families who’d been hunters for generations.” Ren thought of Yang and Ruby, and of Jaune. The Arc family had a long line of hunters.

“Sounds a lot better than what this lot gets. Travelling the world and spending nights with various women. Gods that sounds… like my life. Without the fighting as you can imagine.” Tyrion smiled before walking away from Ren. It would be a couple of days later that the smallest Lannister would leave the Wall.

Ren just went back to watching the men, boys train. Jon instructing them and a few listening to what he was suggesting. This continued for days, long days that saw them all hitting the snow and Snow. Right up until one day when a plump young male was brought into Castle Black. Ren couldn’t believe what he was seeing and from the looks of the other men of the watch, it was a shared belief.

He looked about the same age as Jon, round of body and face made him far wider in all regards. The way he walked was more like a hobble which reminded Ren of Tyrion Lannister. He was glad the dwarf had already left by the time this plump lad arrived, he knew Tyrion would have taken far too much fun in humiliating the poor boy.

* * *

** Nora **

Many of the people in the Red Keep had taken an interest in what was the strangest of guests. A small girl with ginger hair and absolutely no understanding of how things were done and how to use titles. A commoner that had many ears and eyes on her most of the time. A girl young and fair, easy going and with endless energy. A girl name Nora Valkyrie.

Varys had taken care of her after Lord Renly had gone back to Storms End to deal with something before being called back to meet the king on his way back from Winterfell. Varys had assigned many people to watch over the girl, little birds as he called them. Though for some things he didn’t need other’s eyes, he saw first hand just how much food this tiny girl could power through.

She could rival the king himself in this action and perhaps even outperform him. Another was the energy she possessed, she was always wanting to do something, go somewhere, fight someone or something. It was the something that had originally caused him a great interest. But Nora was an open book and quickly opened up to Varys. She told him all about the world of Remnant as he told her as much as he could about Westeros even going as far as to educate her on proper manner, it never stuck.

Her desire to fight and train was another thing they found curious. Her small stature and seemingly ignorant nature, at least to them, made them think very little of her fighting ability. However, after several days of complaining that she wasn’t being active enough, Varys set up a match between one of the Gold Cloaks. The man was instructed to go easy on the girl, something that the man felt insulted about.

Being made to fight a little girl held no honour, gave him not pride or boasting privileges, but Nora quickly told him not to listen to Varys and go all out. The guard took this to heart and gave it his all, only to be laid out in a coma after a single hit from Nora’s war hammer. This proved to affect Nora as she became worried about the man’s health, and never being shy of asking how he was doing, if his condition was improving. He remained in the coma for a little over a day and would never be the same.

It was after this incident that Varys and the others that had witnessed or had spies there that they really considered her a real fighter, someone capable of laying out an armoured guard in one swing. Some of the Baratheon guards even came to call her a smaller and female version of the king when he was younger. There was also a rumour that began to spread, a rumour that named Nora as a bastard child of the king as she boasted extreme power and huge appetite.

Nora was made to train alone and given a lot of heavy things to move and throw around. When men came and asked her if they could join she never once said no. They’d all gone there to prove themselves stronger, quicker, but each of them left defeated and sweating while Nora continued. Her encouragement was both a blessing and a curse as some men appreciated it, then on the other hand there were those who thought she was mocking them and took great insult.

Many weeks past without any word from her friends or teammates, the longing to see Ren which had been small to begin with had grown large, but she knew she’d never see him again, she was trapped in this new world. Then one day Varys approached her with a very serious look on his face.

“The King and his Hand will be in the capital shortly, I want you to be on your best behaviour should you run into either of them.” Nora laughed and waved his concerns aside. Her clothing was no longer her own yet still altered by her own hands. Leather gloves, a skirt trimmed to just above her knees, a shirt with the sleeves cut off completely and strapped to her forearms with a leather vest over it and the shape of a heart carved from the centre showing a little of the shirt and her cleavage. Her boots were done up tight and her hammer was strapped to the small of her back like always.

“Will they train with me? I promise I won’t hurt them.” She grinned in response. _Kings are supposed to be strong right?_

“I’m afraid the likelihood of King Robert training with you is minimal.” Nora frowned at this and poked the fat man’s belly.

“Then his, Hand? His Hand can train with me. He’ll be fun right?”

“Lord Stark is a proud man, honourable. I don’t know how he’ll take to seeing a woman wielding a weapon, let along dressed like…” Nora spun as Varys looked at the rags she was wearing around the Red Keep.

“These are much easier to move in than those clothes I’ve seen other women wearing.”

“That might be true, but women are usually meant to raise families and obey their…” Nora had stopped listening and was walking towards a window.

“The women here sound weak and soft. They need to learn how to fight, I’ve told you how many strong women there are on my world. My friend Pyrrha was stronger than… almost everyone I’ve met.”

“I do recall you explaining this particular woman’s achievements. If only she were here then perhaps you two could…” Varys stopped as there was a knock on the door, an informant of his own. “Excuse me, but the hand is here and there is also a small council meeting taking place. Remain here and stay out of trouble.”

“Ok, whatever.” Nora said dismissively. She waited until Varys had been gone for a few minutes before taking off. She walked down the halls of the Red Keep. Handmaidens and other servants, guards and nobles roamed around. She had learned what Varys was and that there were people constantly watching her but given Nora’s care free nature she ignored them and made her way to the throne room.

She passed someone she’d never seen before, two of them in fact. One was an older man in warm dirty clothing, the other in the armour she recognised as Kingsguard. She avoided talking with each of them and went about walking around the Red Keep, continuing to learn every little passageway she could.

It wasn’t until much later that the number of guards increased indicating that the royal family was returning. Nora found her way to a window and say a fat man riding while being flanked by four members of the Kingsguard. _So that’s the king? An old fat man?_ She shrunk as she clenched her jaw, thinking very little of the fat king.

Still, she followed the crowd to the throne room and while everyone was ordered out, she was noticed by the king at which he bellowed. _Crap… Varys is going to be mad._

“Bring the girl here, the ginger.” His voice was loud and deep, two guards approached her. She avoided their hands and started towards the king, knowing it was her he asked after.

“She’s got something on her back.” She heard one of the guards say.

“She might be concealing a weapon! Take it from her.” Another ordered, thankfully she didn’t recognise any of them from when they chased her upon her arrival, they were better paid guards in the red keep, better trained. She didn’t know what she did to be pointed out like that, but she wasn’t about to let them, or even the king make her do something she didn’t want to.

The first came and Nora stepped away, he pulled his sword out or at least tried to before Nora took his wrist and pulled him into a clothes line. The room with only guards and the King came to life, orders were screamed, and more swords were drawn all around her. The king ordered her restrained and punished while Nora just thought how disappointed both Varys and Renly would be.

“I didn’t do anything! I was about to leave when the fat man called for me.” Her calling the king fat man had everyone frozen. The king raised from his chair and stepped down, his face was burning red, anger and rage from Nora’s disrespect for his position.

“Out! Everyone but her get the fuck out!” He roared, taking a sword from one of the guards and stalking towards her, though fat he was still tall, much taller than Nora.

Nora was looking up at the man, at barely over five-foot-tall she was dwarfed by the king who stood at six and a half feet tall. He smelled of alcohol, as his steps thundered towards her. _A fat king, I wonder if he can move like professor Port?_ She was about to start moving when another voice called out.

“Your Grace, striking down this girl in anger won’t help with the common folk. What happens when they learn of your actions?” A man in a Kingsguard uniform but with an old head.

“It’s ok old man. I don’t know anyone here, Mr Renly helped me out and Mr Varys has told me so much.” She turned to the king who now had a slightly less angry expression on his face.

“My youngest brother helped you?” He asked, sword still tightly in his dominant hand, cheeks still burning with a faded anger. “Why?”

“Those gold cloak people though I destroyed a house in the bad part of the city. Flee Bottom I think it is? Anyway, they were chasing me, and I got away, but I was lost, Mr Renly and his guards found me and brought me here.” Nora while explaining how she’d come to be in the Red Keep stayed alert, making sure she was ready to dodge, not that her aura couldn’t take more than a few hits from the sword.

“You said they thought you destroyed a house?” The old Kingsguard asked.

“I didn’t do it… I woke up under the rumble and smashed my way out.” Nora grinned, bending her arm, curling it so her bicep bulged. The king saw this and raised an eyebrow, his anger still there but curiosity was seeping in.

“Smashed your way out from underneath? With what? You’re tiny, weak, a girl.” The king was about to dismiss her claims when she reached behind her back. _Oh I’ll show you weak, fat man._

Both of the men watched as Nora pulled out what was thought to be concealing a weapon, in reality it was her weapon. Compact and easier to move than having it in war hammer form the entire time, she activated it and watched as the men observed. She knew it wasn’t something they’d ever seen before, it was from a world far more advanced than this one, her world or Remnant.

As her war hammer fully transformed she let it, helped it crash into the floor of the throne room. She heard the cracking of the stone and didn’t even bat an eye, the same couldn’t be said for the old man and the king, both of whom took a step back from the tiny ginger. With her hand on the shaft of the weapon she placed a boot on the head looking smug.

“With this! My precious baby can go through anything… Like that poor guy I put in a coma.” Although he had woken up, his life would never be the same. Shattered ribs as well as his left leg and arm, Nora felt terrible and only when she heard that he was under the care of a healer and to be given compensation did she feel even remotely better.

“A runt like you can hold that?” The king asked shocked while the old man moved closer.

“A better question, how did you have it so… small?” Nora grinned and explained that she was from a place more advanced that Westeros and that her weapon was custom made and weapons alike it were very common. She didn’t go into detail about everything as the king stepped forwards looking sceptical.

“So how heavy is it? Can’t be a proper weapon if a runt like you can hold it.” Nora smirked and pushed it towards the king.

“Go on fat man. Show me what you can do.” The blood came back to the king’s face as he heaved the war hammer up, knowing his strength wasn’t what it used to be but still retaining a good amount of it, he was able to prepare to strike when using both hands and a split grip.

What Nora saw however was the strength he had, Ren couldn’t lift it, Jaune couldn’t, Pyrrha struggled, Yang struggled, the other three didn’t even try. But here he was, someone without an aura picking up and holding, not swinging but still, she was impressed, and her eyes twinkled with excitement.

“I knew kings were supposed to be strong!” Nora hopped around a little, the Kingsguard never taking his eyes off her which she found weird.

“It’s heavy, you can really use it?” The king asked, letting it crash back to the stone floor. Nora offered her hand and he pushed the shaft back at her. In one quick and effortless motion she had it in both hands and swung it in the air a few times.

Turning back, she found both of the men speechless. _Even a king isn’t strong enough._ A small squeaking escaped her as her excitement reached a new high.

“Train with me! Everyone else gets tired or feels emasculated and doesn’t come back.” The king had a frown on his face, his body had been coated in a thick layer of blubber since the Greyjoy Rebellion was the last time he needed to fight. Ever since that day the king had been rather indulgent about a great many things. Food, wine, women.

“I don’t think his Grace would…”

“Nonsense Barristan. If someone so small can hold that thing then perhaps I can fight her in earnest. But be careful girl, hitting a king is punishable by death.” Nora froze, her smiling fading to a plain expression as she registered the threat. He burst into laughed and moved forward putting a hand on her shoulder. “Shall we start right away? The road back was terribly boring.”

Nora’s smile returned and she nodded, training with a king would be something she’d remember, even if he was a fat old man.

“I’m Nora.”

“Robert Baratheon, your King.” Nora tilted her head and transformed her war hammer back before slipping away from his hand.

“I don’t need a king. I’m the queen of my own castle.” She poked her tongue out as she walked backwards, Robert and Barristan sharing an utterly confused glance.

“I’ll come with you, we should discover who, what and where. She could be dangerous your Grace.”

“Dangerous? Ha! Did you see her Barristan, I could barely hold that, and she made it look easy. Oh she’s already plenty dangerous. Come, we’ll get my arms and armour and meet her at the training yard.”

Nora was still within earshot as she heard them talking, it wasn’t hard since the king was loud and they didn’t hide their conversation either. With her bubbly personality and endless supply of energy, Nora was more than ready to get some serious training in. _Just don’t hurt him… these people don’t have any aura… Don’t hit him hard… barely at all._ She figured it was best to play it safe, harming the king could very well mean her own life, or at the least attempts on her life.


	9. Cripples & Snakes

** Weiss **

Winterfell had been so much quieter than Weiss had ever experienced once the king had left. He’d taken the Warden of the North in Eddard as well as both Sansa and Arya, the younger of which had just started training under Weiss’ instruction, down to the capital of King’s Landing.

Bran was meant to go with them, but after he’d fallen from the tower he was bed stricken and remained unconscious. The only up side to that was Catelyn was staying by his side meaning Weiss didn’t have to put up with her attitude and looks.

Jon too had gone, but he had headed north to The Wall, something she found intriguing and wanted to see but remained in Winterfell unable to make up her mind about where to go. At least where she was there was food and shelter and more than enough reading material, but once the library tower went up in flames there was less to read and a decision needed to be made.

That night was the busiest it had been since the King had arrived, people fought the fire quickly and efficiently. Weiss didn’t even need to step in, but it was what happened in Bran’s room that had everyone truly concerned. The fire happened to be merely the distraction.

Weiss hadn’t been there or even allowed near Bran since, but she eventually got Robb to let her in and examine Bran. She knew aura would help, but Bran, no one in this world had it. Sure she could have unlocked his, but she knew what that could do to this world. Fighting amongst others with aura and then semblances would only escalate things.

Bran’s face was gaunt with his skin sticking to his bones like drumskins. Skin greyed and eyes sunken into black pits with his hair having grown long. It was worse than how Arya had told her it was and Weiss found herself wondering how this child could still be alive, living off nothing but honey and water.

Robb was ever watchful as Weiss looked him over and checked his pulse. She was very gentle knowing that the current Lord was watching over her and his brother. Deciding to keep her aura to herself Weiss apologised to Robb but thanked him for letting him see Bran. That’s when things got interesting for Weiss. Robb had pointed out that she still carried around her own blade with strange colours on it.

Defending her rights to keep her blade at her side only made Robb’s drive to have his own steel on him at all times. Something that he brought up with Ser Rodrick, the Master-at-arms who agreed that steel should be give to those who they thought deserved it, Theon Greyjoy among them.

It was a good thing that Catelyn was still sleeping after the incident where Bran was attacked. Robb informed Weiss of the injuries his mother had received, deep cuts into her fingers and palms from an attacker that was there to claim her life. But that wasn’t why is was good, this gave Weiss the chance to goad Robb into sparring with her and showing the young Lord that she could more than handle herself, just like she’d done with Jon and Arya.

It was easy to get Robb to agree, but Ser Rodrick had insisted that he oversee the sparring match after Weiss swiftly defeated him with her words. Insulting him and telling him that she would beat the old man after she’d educated Robb thoroughly first. Ser Rodrick had then agreed and told Robb not to hold back, that Weiss needed to learn her place beneath them all, especially the Starks.

The match, if it could be called one was over quickly. As soon as they were let at each other, Weiss had darted forwards with a glyph, one that didn’t require the use of her limited Dust. Swatting his sword aside, she pointed the tip of her Myrtenaster at his throat. Both Robb and Ser Rodrick accused her of some kind of trickery but Weiss had suggested they continue sparring.

So they did, with Weiss taking a defensive stance and never once allowing Robb to get close to touching her with his blade. Aura or not, she didn’t want him getting close. She found he was much like Jon in his swordplay, good technique to begin with but as they tired they began to swing with more strength. Wider arcs, heavier blows, overextending, all of which allowed Weiss to show Robb that she was vastly superior to him.

There had been a small gathering that had come to watch the sparring match. Theon, Maester Luwin and Hallis Mollen. All three and Robb would then go on to watch Ser Rodrick attempt and fail to educate Weiss, but again Weiss simply outlasted him and won every single time. She didn’t mean any harm and without Eddard Stark there and Catelyn out cold, she was finally able to show them all what she was capable of, a small, tiny bit.

She went on to tell all five about her aura and how it worked, protected her against attacks revealing a little bit about herself to them. Maester Luwin wanted to see it tested but Weiss refused claiming that she’d not allow herself to struck. A Schnee still with her pride intact.

Once she’d shown up Robb and Ser Rodrick, she was granted a little more leniency. Robb allowed her to see the knife that was used in the attempt on Catelyn’s life. Ser Rodrick claimed it to be Valyrian steel, something Weiss had read about but never seen. Getting to compare the steel side by side and seeing the obvious differences between them, she could quickly tell the blade was different.

The claim of Valyrian steel being able to hold its edge for longer than any other metal and its ability to cut through other steel made Weiss curious. Testing and showing them her aura with Robb’s sword by cutting gently along her palm she’d smiled. But when she did the same with the dagger, it cut right through her aura and she flinched in response.

Blood dripped from her clenched hand as the men, plus Robb, stood there while Weiss quickly came up with a theory that she was confident in. This Valyrian steel contained some sort or magic or ability that could cut right through her aura. Memorising this, Weiss asked Luwin to tend to her wound. It was gone within a few days, completely healed by the time Catelyn woke up, not even a scar thanks to her aura.

Weiss still hadn’t managed to get enough trust from who she figured to be the six most powerful people in Winterfell at the time and missed the secret meeting that was held once Catelyn woke. Although she did soon realise that Catelyn and Ser Rodrick were both gone, something that she quickly came to Robb about and asked if there was any way she could help. She was living there and being fed but barely doing another else other than her own training, she felt the need to provide what assistance she could. The Schnee name was nothing in Westeros and she figured she’d need to make it known.

What Weiss did manage to learn after a few days of showing Robb and Luwin what she could do in terms of organisation and writing, along with her prowess in swordplay being the best Winterfell currently had, even if she wasn’t sworn to the household. But this also strained the trust between them as giving knowledge to someone who wasn’t sworn to them was a risk, one that Luwin advised Robb on. Yet after training one afternoon, Robb partially answered her question. It wasn’t Catelyn the attacker was after, but Bran. It was another piece they’d been hiding from Weiss and the reason Catelyn and Rodrick were gone.

Robb went on to explain that they had their suspicions but because Weiss was an outsider and an unknown, that was all he was willing to say. Frustrated and displeased, Weiss came to the conclusion that she too wouldn’t trust someone she barely knew. She had been trained in the ways or running a global business and Robb was raised to one day rule the North, they were fairly similar regarding their responsibilities.

Many days later something happened that had Robb called to the great hall of Winterfell where Hallis and Theon were to stand guard behind him and the walls lined with Stark guards. Weiss didn’t know why there were so many when all she could see were four guests, one being rather stunted. _Wonder what these people want._ She darted off to the side as Robb addressed them.

A man of the Night’s Watch accompanied by a Lannister and his two guards/servants. Weiss couldn’t figure out why Robb had his sword on display, lying across his lap but felt his hostility when he claimed only the single man from the Night’s Watch was welcomed to stay within Winterfell’s walls.

All the Lannister had said was that Robb was a boy, and by Weiss’ opinion he very much was still that. A boy who was even younger than Ruby but given a great deal of power. _He’s too proud. They should have appointed someone… older._ She thought as Robb had done nothing but piss on the Lannister’s presence and revealed that both his father and now mother weren’t in Winterfell, although the Lannister probably knew about Eddard’s appointment as Hand.

Hearing Jon’s name come from the little man was all it took for Bran to cry out. Having woken up some days ago he was already looking far healthier than he did while unconscious. He could no longer walk or feel anything below his waist, something that Weiss could have ordered fixed if it had been in Atlas. But in Westeros, there was nothing she could do accept feel sorry for the poor boy.

“So it is true, you Starks are hard to kill.” The dwarf smiled softly as he said it, Weiss noting while Robb only say the chance to retort.

“Any you Lannisters had best remember that.” The dwarf had been called that a few times already. _Lannister… there were some with the King… Tyrion?_ Weiss wondered, hoping she’d placed the name with the right brother. Once she recalled Jamie being the more handsome one she knew she’d nailed it.

“Bring my brother here.” Robb commanded, the giant halfwit as Weiss had heard some servants call him lumbered forwards with Bran in his arms. His name was Hodor, Weiss knew next to nothing about him though. Hodor placed Bran in some high seat that looked uncomfortable to her.

“You said you had business with Bran? Well here he is Lannister.” Robb snarled. Weiss again shook her head not knowing why Robb was being so cold towards his guest.

The dwarf asked Bran if he could recall anything from the day he fell but everyone jumped in saying that the boy, Bran, remembered nothing. Weiss had gotten to talk to him briefly a couple of times and Bran hadn’t seemed to remember anything while she spoke with him.

“Well then, I come baring a gift for you Bran. I’ve heard that you like to ride.” Weiss grew a sad smile on her face as the dwarf mentioned riding. She’d been riding a horse lately and knew Bran couldn’t.

Maester Luwin stepped forward telling Tyrion that Bran had lost the use of his legs making it impossible for him to ride again. Tyrion was quick to answer that he still could. Saddles could be made differently and horses could be trained to listen to other commands.

“Train a fresh horse. Get it used to taking commands by voice and by the reins. You must mould the horse to fit the rider, give this to you saddler and he’ll be able to do the rest.” Luwin took the paper and looked it over. _Stupid! You could have come up with a saddle that works… Not that you’ve ridden before coming here._ Sure Weiss came from a more advanced world, but horse riding and saddles were rather foreign to her until a couple of moons ago.

“Will I truly be able to ride again?” Bran asked, excitement in his joy showing how much he appreciated the gift, given it would work.

“Yes, you’ll be as tall as anyone up there.” Weiss was thankful that Tyrion had given Bran hope, even if it was only to be able to ride again. It was better than him longing to ride and not being able to.

“Is this a trap Lannister? What’s Bran to you? Why would you bother helping him?” Robb was clearly puzzled for some reason while Weiss figured it was a simple act of kindness.

“Your brother Jon asked me to help if I could. And I have a tender spot for cripples, bastards and broken things.” With his back towards Weiss she couldn’t see what he was doing.

With little Rickon bursting through the door to the yard, all eyes turned to greet this new arrival. While the youngest Stark stood there wide eyed, it was the wolves that came with him that moved. Summer and Shaggydog, Grey Wind too. Bran’s wolf Summer was the one to start growling first, but Robb’s larger wolf joined in while the dark Shaggydog crept around until he was behind Tyrion.

“Perhaps its time I took my leave.” Tyrion suggested, stepping back as the wolves came for him. Shaggydog snarled from behind him, scaring the Lannister dwarf. _Are they not calling their pets away?_ Weiss wondered, drawing her weapon and summoning a glyph. She was at the far back of the hall listening, but as Summer lunged and Grey Wind tore some of Tyrion’s sleeve, she propelled herself forwards.

She was aiming for the largest one, Grey Wind. Just before she reached him she heard Bran call his wolf, then her feet collided with Grey Wind, toppling the wolf and sending it several feet along the ground as it whined in pain. Weiss summersaulted after pushing off Grey Wind and landed elegantly, her blade raised and pointing directly at Shaggydog as Rickon yelled for his wolf to come to him.

Weiss’ off-centre bun tail resettled as she stood there poised in defence of the guest since Robb nor any one else seemed to care. She could see something in Robb’s eyes, something she didn’t like.

“Bran, Rickon. Take your wolves and Robb’s out of the hall this instant.” She commanded, everyone in the room waiting, watching. Weiss was in a mood, pissed off by the lack of common decency.

“Go on, take our wolves from here… I don’t know why they did that.” At Robb’s command his brother, reluctantly did just that. Hodor carrying Bran out too with Rickon running alongside, all three wolves at their heels.

Tyrion took this time to start towards the door, eager to leave the hall and the presence of the Stark boy Lord. It was Maester Luwin’s voice that caused him to halt. Weiss finally sheathed her blade once Robb started speaking.

“I may have been hasty with you Lannister. You’ve done a kindness for Bran and coupled with the way our wolves acted I will give you the hospitality of Winterfell at its highest.” Weiss smiled, it was something that should have been offered in the first place given how this world worked.

“Spare me you false courtesies boy, You don’t want me here. I saw an inn outside the walls in the winter town. I’ll find a bed there, perhaps even a wench to warm my sheets for me.” Tyrion then spoke to the man all in black, similar to a man that Weiss had seen during the King’s visit. It was a man of the Night’s Watch, she was sure of it.

As Tyrion left she went after the dwarf, eager to ask him some questions. Catching up with him after giving them several meters from the hall, Weiss called to him.

“Tyrion Lannister? I am correct in assuming that you are… Jamie Lannister’s and the Queen’s brother?” Weiss looked into his eyes, a mismatched green and black. Just the simple fact that his eyes were different colours reminded her of someone she didn’t know the name of but had seen a couple of times. A short female who had never spoken a word but worked with a criminal.

“You are.” His eyes studied her, she had remained hidden for the entire time the king was at Winterfell but had observed others. She knew Tyrion by appearance but he knew nothing of her. “Thank you for interfering with those… vicious beasts.”

“The wolves aren’t that bad. You must have done something to upset them.” Weiss said plainly, although she couldn’t think of anything that he might have done.

“But I’d only just arrived, I wouldn’t dream of annoying creatures so much bigger than myself.” There was a cheeky smile on his face the Weiss found strangely familiar. He was teasing like Yang, even though he was tiny and weak.

“I realise that, which is why I found it curious that Robb was so rude to you, his guest. Do you have any idea why he greeted you so coldly?” Weiss was interested in finding the answer since Robb still hadn’t told her everything.

“Before that, is he not your Lord? Shouldn’t you address him properly?” Tyrion asked, probing for the young girl’s stance.

“Lord Stark,” She said sarcastically, “is but a boy on a chair. There is little I’ve seen that gives him the title. Someone older and more knowledgeable should be seated there.” Weiss found Tyrion’s mismatching eyes studying hers.

“You should be careful about saying that, who knows who could hear you.” He warned, a smile on his face. “Besides our views on the boy, thank you for stepping in when those wolves began to hunger. I would taste terrible, deformed and full of wine.”

“Although I haven’t tasted anyone before, just because you are deformed and drink a lot, doesn’t mean you lack intelligence. There’s something about you, you know things since you can’t fight like most men on this world.” Weiss watched as the dwarf’s eyes widened. _What’s that about?_

“Excuse my hearing, I am quite the way down. But did you say, from this world?” Weiss saw something in his eyes and squatted down to his eye level. She held a stern yet hopeful gaze as Tyrion looked at her with interest.

“You’ve met someone else from Remnant?” Weiss said in a low tone. Tyrion smiled and nodded. Weiss’ heart began to race. “Where? Who?!” Excitement more than creeping into her voice.

“Information has a cost, I’m sure you’re aware of that.” Weiss scowled and stood back up.

“Seeing you came here with a man of the Night’s Watch, I assume whoever it is, is up there. I could just go there and see for myself.” Weiss stated, crossing her arms.

“Cleaver girl. Perhaps I should have hidden my words better. I will tell you, but if I may ask two things from you.” Again Weiss leered at the dwarf.

“So long as they aren’t inappropriate. I’ve heard rumours that while you were here with the king most of your time was in the brothels.” The dwarf before her just laughed.

“So you were here back then, irrelevant. I want to know your name, and if you’d be so kind as to not lie to me, should we meet again. I will do the same to you, honesty, just between the two of us.” Weiss considered it for a while and the put her hand out to shake his.

“Weiss Schnee, and I’ll agree to not lying to you. However, if I don’t want to tell you something I won’t lie, I simply won’t tell.” Tyrion shook her hand with a smirk.

“Intriguing, versed in… politics perhaps?”

“You only said two things, Tyrion.” Weiss said with a smile. The dwarf laughed and nodded.

“The one up at the wall was a boy. His name was Lie Ren, please remember my honesty in the future.” _Ren! Ren’s here. So it’s not just me, someone else from… home._ Tyrion waddled away leaving Weiss with a sparkle in her eyes as she thought about Ren. He was quiet and they never really spoke, but she still considered him an ally, a friend. In this world he would be her closest friend.

Walking back towards her quarters she was headed off by Robb. Grey Wind was at his side as well as Luwin lurking beyond. Weiss looked up at him from her height of five foot three. Robb was currently five foot ten, tall for a fourteen year old boy but his father Eddard had reached over six foot.

“You disrespected me in front of everyone.” Robb growled, hand filled gloves curling into fists at his side. _I don’t have time for this._ Weiss thought as she sighed.

“You showed no courtesy to a guest and you say I had disrespect? Just remember I am not one of your people and I can best anyone here.” She saw his eyes twitch and Luwin come forward. _Perfect._ “Maester Luwin, you should instruct him more on his manners. I wonder what would have happened if the wolves had of torn apart a Lannister?”

Seeing both of their expressions change for the worse, she knew they’d understood. Even though she was new to these lands and their rules, she’d been reading and reading, trying to get an understanding of how this world work. In her readings there was plenty about wars, the great houses falling into conflict time and time again. Just as would have happened if Tyrion lost his life to the Stark boy’s wolves.

“We believe a Lannister pushed Bran from the tower… and sent the man to kill Bran not mother. He may have…”

“Seen something…” Weiss finished his sentence and turned to look at the wall as she pondered the reasons. _But why? And why Tyrion?_

“My Lord are you sure it was wise to inform her. She is not loyal to you.” Luwin said from behind Robb.

“Perhaps if we had told her before Tyrion returned, she would not have intervened.” Robb suggest with Luwin sighing.

“So you’d kill a man on a whim? This world truly is broken.” Weiss pushed past, shorter but confident and proud. “I’ll be gone in a few days.” She called, making her way to her room and bolting the door. _What am I going to do? Do I go south or do I go to Ren?_ Lying on her bed and gazing at the ceiling in thought, Weiss drifted into a light sleep.

* * *

** Neopolitan **

Two moons had passed since Neo found herself in this new world. She’d adjusted quickly, though everyone found her to be interesting thanks to her constant silence. She had to write down her words in order for people to get what she meant and spent a lot of time with Oberyn, much to his woman’s dismay. Though no matter how many times the viper tried to slither between her legs, Neo always declined.

With her unwillingness to have some fun during their free time, Oberyn eventually gave out to his former promise and decided to let her fight. This was only a week after arriving and since that day where she fought against several of the Martell guards, she sought better competition but the viper only ever watched, never putting himself in the area against the extremely mobile mute.

This day was different however as he’d brought in his three daughters that were all chomping at the bit to have a go at the mute. Obara stepped into the arena first, a large clear space near the gardens that was often used as the nobles place of sparring.

Neo was a master at dodging and held a consistently confident smirk on her face as she danced around the sharp end of Obara’s spear. When she did stand still it continued to feel too easy for her to redirect the attacks, batting them to the side with her umbrella and countering with gentle pushes to begin with.

Each failed strike by Obara angered the Sand Snake who continued attacking more ferociously and with a greater extent of her techniques that her father had taught her. The blade glided through the air, always on target but never actually hitting it. Neo’s reflexes, her movements, they always allow her to escape harm.

It was mostly the smile Neo wore that pissed Obara off, but as the fight continued, the Sand Snake slowly wore herself out with sweat dripping from her brow, Neo’s smirk turned into a frown as she became uninterested, disappointed that her opponent had tired without her even breaking a sweat, despite the hot climate she was in.

“Stop moving bitch! Ha!” She yelled, another spear thrust that found only air, but this time she dragged it back attempting to at least hit the girl with the shaft of the spear. It wasn’t to be as Neo leaned back in a display of incredible flexibility, putting her hands on the ground arching her back before flicking her legs up as the spear passing over her. Her handstand saw her fall away from Obara and end up back on her feet exuding confidence.

“I’ll get you… I’ll fucking get you!” Obara attacked again, Neo humiliating her as she redirected every attack before growing so tired of it that she ended it then and there. Pushing the spear high, she hooked the curled handle of her umbrealla around Obara’s heel and pulled. The Sand Snake crashed to the ground dropping her spear while Neo just walked off happy. She didn’t need to show her blade to have everyone know it was her victory.

_What a shame, I thought she was going to be entertaining, at least she was better than the guards._ Neo reflected as she moved into the shade of a tree, watching the two younger sisters speaking to their elder sibling in whispers. Neo was sure it was about her, about her fighting style, something she knew they’d never be able to overcome thanks to her “talks” with Oberyn.

She brought the wine to her lips, the glass given to her by Oberyn along with the bottle she was slowly going through that day. Dornish red tasted much like Vale’s standard red wine she could get from the supermarkets, or more often than not, stole from someone’s residence.

“Hey doll. You’re fighting me next.” One of the other sisters called. Neo barely acknowledged her which led to a mistake on the girl’s part.

The cracking of a whip echoed in the arena as the glass Neo had been drinking from shattered. The wine wet her clothing as she stood there looking at the wet patch that started with her chest and inside as the wine drizzled down her torso. Tasting a little blood from a piece of glass that cut her. There was something about her eyes that changed, a killer instinct taking root as she brushing the broken glass off her, her aura protecting her skin as the glass shards trickled to her feet.

Glass further cracked and broke as Neo stepped through it, swinging her umbrella while she carelessly approached the one called Nymeria who used the bullwhip that broke her wine glass. She watched the arm movements of Nymeria and sighed to herself. _She’s so slow._

Neo sidestepped the first whip as it cracked beside her. She continued her approach, never giving the girl time to think for too long. It was a game for Neo, an easy game that required some punishment. The whip continued to crack as Oberyn and his other two daughters watched on as Neo slowly cornered the whip user. With a sadistic smile she licked her bloody lip.

Pulling the blade from its concealed compartment, Neo cut her bullwhip into five pieces and then marked the girl with shallow slices, repaying her for the cut lip and wine smelling clothes. Nymeria screamed in shock and pain, the matches were to be of good nature, but she’d soured Neo’s mood and the mute didn’t care for these people at all. _None of you can harm me. You’re all pathetic and weak, slow and arrogant._ She spat on the girl, a little of her blood colouring her saliva.

It was as she was turning away that she was attacked again, a spear narrowly missing her face before she hooked it and hit the smallest of the sisters who was about to strike. The spear levelled Tyene before Neo cartwheeled over the spear planting her feet on Tyene. Dipping her head left and evading Obara’s fist, Neo kicked and then opened her umbrella, knocking Obara back.

She spun elegantly and made the sharp blade extend from the tip of her umbrella, levelling it at Tyene’s throat as the girl was about to rise. Neo’s trademark smirk was on display as she pressed it gently to her throat. _Oh how easy it would be, ending your pathetic life._ The only reason she didn’t, was that she was being treated almost like royalty by the family. She wondered if that would change now that she’d drawn blood from two of them. A small dot with a slight trickle on Tyene’s neck and several shallow lacerations on Nymeria for causing offense to her.

“Enough.” Came Oberyn’s voice.

“Come on papa, we can take her together.” Obara hissed as she readied herself for yet another round, one that Neo truly didn’t want to participate in. Yes, they were better than the guards Oberyn had her against in the early weeks of her arrival, but they still weren’t enough.

“Quiet my child. She just took down you and you sister while you attacked from nehind. I’d be a little politer to our guest, even if she did, threaten to end one of my daughters.” Neo found his gaze and instead of anger or fear she saw something else, a gaze that Roman sometimes used to have but this man, this man had it perfected and it unsettle her a little.

“Is it normal from where your from, to fight and harm a man’s children?” He asked with a wry smile on his face, further unsettling Neo who was watching his movements very closely and moving counter to him. If he struck, she be ready.

“Obara, take you sister to the healer. See her wounds are treated and do not return until evening.” With that, Oberyn left, his gaze not returning to Neo and leaving the four girls there to wonder.

Neo would spend the remainder of the day as she usually did. Walking around Sunspear taking things she wanted and toying with those who decided to have a go at her, though the list was growing short and her days less and less eventful thanks to her reputation getting out there as someone you didn’t want to mess with.

When dinner did came around, Neo found herself at the opposite head of the table the two chairs on her end sides empty. It was a huge table, but one that was empty with only three Sand Snakes, Oberyn and Ellaria, the woman she’d flipped head over heels on her first day in Westeros.

“How did the girls do?” Ellaria asked keeping her eyes from Neo, acting as if the mute wasn’t even there. It was something Neo was used to, she preferred not being spoken to as it was difficult to communicate with these people.

“Lost, even in a two on one. The need more training.” Oberyn said before tearing some meat off the bone.

“More training? That’s all they ever do? Why haven’t you just ended the girl? She has no loyalty, look what she did to…”

“I know what she did.” His voice was calm and collected and his eyes hard as they met Neo’s mismatched eyes. She just smiled and reached for her glass of wine, something different this time, something Oberyn had said came from across the Narrow Sea.

“And you’re just letting her get away with it?”

“And he gave her some wine from Braavos. Look at that pink shit, thinks she owns the place.” Obara growled. Neo tilted her wine glass a little, taking it as a compliment and acknowledging that she could get away with anything.

Nymeria stood from the table and pulled her whip from its resting place on her hip, it was a new one since Neo had cut the other to pieces. The two stared at one another, Neo just sitting there waiting while Nymeria fought the urge to start fighting again, a fight that Neo knew would end with more wine being spilled. And she didn’t want that, she wanted to taste this superior flavour from another landmass.

“I’ll break that glass to bitch, then I’ll wrap my whip around your neck until you pass out. You stupid magic won’t protect you from that now will it.” Her whip unfurled and snaked onto the floor. Neo just remained seated, calm. She wore a “come get me” expression on her face, just begging the usually tactical minded Sand Snake into lunging.

“Nymeria. Sit down, you’ve already been beaten once.”

“I can win this time father. I…”

“I said no!” His voice silenced her for a moment.

“Fuck this, I’ll just break her precious fucking wine. Then she can cry over…”

“Don’t! Touch the wine.” Oberyn yelled, hands rattling the table and startling all at it. “It’s expensive, and you know what she did to you last time child.” He aimed the insult at Nymeria who fell silent quickly Neo’s own expression went from fright to pleasure as the bullwhip girl learned her place, far beneath Neo’s feet.

_Idiot girl, hot headed and soft. She’s lucky her father was here._ Neo nodded to Oberyn who was looking rather tense. _Must have been worried his daughter’s stupidity might cause some blood at the table._ Giggling in silence to herself alone, Neo took a long drink and smiled.

The meal continued with Neo taking to the wine with ease. It was much sweeter than the one she had earlier in the glass Nymeria smashed which led to cutting of the second eldest Sand Snake. The Martells, Oberyn and the Sands anyway continued talking but Neo started to feel ill.

She took another sip of her wine and looked at her food again, digging back it when a sudden rush had her sweating and feeling unbalanced even as she sat on the seat. Grabbing onto the table she tried to make the world stay still while from the other end of the table, she heard a voice.

“Is everything ok there Neo? You don’t look so good.” Neo expected to find concern on his face, but all she saw was a smile, a smirk similar to her own she wore when toying with an opponent. _What… did he do to me?_ She wondered.

Walking towards the exit to get some fresh air, she didn’t last long before her legs gave out in her weakened state. She crawled, grasping at the ground, fingertips hurting as she tried for the door. A weight rolled her onto her back and her pink and brown eyes stared up at the many faces looking down on her in mockery. _I’ll get you all… I’ll kill you._

“Now lets talk.” Oberyn said squatting down and smiling at her.

“You hurt my daughter, that is something you had to be punished for. Yet you didn’t kill either when you had the chance.” He looked up to his daughter, the one she’d cut several times. Neo just felt the strength continuing to leave her as they waited, watched her fading. _I’m dying!_ She screamed internally, grabbing his sleeve with a desperate look.

“That’s right, you need help. I almost forgot that I have the antidote right here.” He pulled out a small bottle and smiled. “You understand now, that even with your magic we can weaken you, kill you in ways that you haven’t yet dreamed.

Neo growled silently but she couldn’t deny the fact that she was at their mercy, they could very well let her die in this moment. Nodding quickly, she felt her vision blur from the action. She felt a coolness on her lips and a hand behind her head as it was tipped back. A liquid slipped into her mouth which she quickly downed.

“You owe us everything girl, don’t forget that.” After she’d swallowed her head was released and struck the hard ground. A headache quickly set in. “Leave her there. She can learn humility as she drags herself to her quarters.”

Neo felt her strength returning even before they were all gone from the room. Nymeria was the last to leave, smiling like she’d just defeated Neo in a one on one battle. The effects of the poison wearing off quickly thanks to the antidote. Still she remained lying there, thinking about what had happened, how she’d been poisoned and how easily she’d just lapped it up. Her actions led to it in part, that she realised. But it was that daughter of his, the one with the whip she felt the true anger and hatred towards.

After several long minutes Neo returned to her chair. She ate her food but didn’t touch any of the wine or water on the table. If hers was poisoned then the others could be too. _The Red Viper of Dorne. Sneaky bastard uses poison to beat his… people he dislikes._ She wondered about her relationship to the man and whether or not she should just kill him and be done with it.

The wine bottle shattered against the wall of the room, poisoned liquor running down the wall making a trail to the floor. Neo was furious that she’d been so humiliated, put so close to death without even truly losing. _I need to be more careful in this world now. Watch what they do, accept only what I know isn’t tainted._

Neo returned to her room and the many books inside it. She began reading, gathering any information she thought might be useful. She desired to grow and thrive, to leave these snakes to their wine and sand. She didn’t need either, she could make it on her own. But first, she desired knowledge on a certain substance and the antidotes she’d need. How to brew both for her own future use, she was very skilled in camouflage after all.

* * *

**Well hello everyone! I know it’s been far, far too long. But I’m back. I have another chapter ready for you but I’m thinking about saving it for Christmas unless I can write another one out before then.**

**Hope you all enjoyed!**


	10. Surviving & Nora’s Shield

** Blake **

Her cat ears twitched beneath the hood, listening out for the sounds of the prey she was hunting. A small creature enough to feed herself and for her to get some more furs to shield her from the cold after.

An insignificant crunch, below the ability of most humans to ear, but with her cat ears Blake heard it and knew the location. She stepped slowly towards the prey being careful not to make any noises though it was difficult with the snow covering the foliage.

Breath turned to mist as she took slow, deep breaths. She nocked the arrow before even sighting the target. Raising from her crouched approach the ears came into view, standing tall and alert much like her own Faunus ears.

She raised the bow, pulled back the arrow and prayed that this time she’d hit her target. _At the bottom of the breath, release._ She told herself, lining the rabbit up as its nose twitched and its whiskers moved.

Twang, and the arrow was in the air, it didn’t last more than a second as it collided and pierced right through Blake’s target. The rabbit’s blood quickly staining the snow beneath its now resting body.

Taking the rabbit, the resource into her hands she pulled the arrow from it and cleaned it on the rabbit’s fur. She smiled to herself beneath the hood, having successfully caught one after two days of trying and missing was rewarding as she was still getting used to using a bow. She’d already decided she needed to save her bullets for when it really mattered.

“Finally. Now you won’t have to take food off someone from camp.” Dorrand said, deriding Blake for the actions she often did.

She didn’t give the son of the tribe leader a response as she tucked the rabbit into the leather bag she carried. True, she had often relied on others to get her daily requirement of food but that didn’t mean she didn’t regret it. She knew she was taking nourishment away from others each time and mentally noted who she had to repay, though after killing that bear she had more than shown herself capable of hunting large creatures. Trouble was there weren’t many of them.

“Come on, a rabbit each isn’t good enough. We’re out like the other hunters to provide for the tribe.” Blake didn’t need to be told this, it was something she knew well and the more food they could catch in a single outing the more they could preserve and use over the next few days before going out again. And it wasn’t only the food, nothing of the animals went to waste.

Hide and furs often being used for clothing or to make huts. The meat was eaten, eyes and tongue too. The bones had the most use though, the people used them to make tools, weapons, construct huts akin to tents if the bones were big enough. Otherwise they were used to help keep clothing shut, buttons. Finally they would use bones as medicine too, something Blake had read about on Remnant and been told from the leader.

She’d been a part of the tribe for weeks now, her position odd as while they were all humans she had shown great skill and bravery as she struck down the bear single-handedly. She’d been made a fur coat of her own and the leather used to fit her with clothing too. The meat and bones went to the village as a whole and fed them for a week with larger proportioned meals, a rare gift that seen her getting thanked by many.

Still, she had her ears which the people found strange, but what Blake found strange was that none of them had ever heard of the term Faunus. They did tell her stories of the skinchangers though, people who could enter the body of animals and control them, but never did any story mention the addition of animal appendages.

It was at that point that Blake started to realise she wasn’t on Remnant anymore. The lack of technology and a learned society. The ancient weapons and strange traditions. The stories they had and views they held, most notably against what was called the Night’s Watch, an organisation of men who looked upon those beyond this, Wall, as savages.

While Blake didn’t really think these people were savages, she’d only been there a short time and never seen The Wall or the Night’s Watch. She didn’t know of the history and had only seen one side, the side of the tribe she was in. Isolated deep within this “true north” she’d been told she was in.

Still, Blake new that her survival was most important and that once she’d prepared enough, she’d leave the tribe to its former existence without her being there. She needed to know more about this world in order to find herself a place in it, or to figure out if there was a way back to Remnant, to her friends who would surely be missing her, mostly her team.

She and Dorrand continued hunting through the woods for hours, searching for any animals large or small. Three more rabbits between the two and two birds later, they started making their way back towards the camp.

Once back in camp the rabbits and birds were taken from them and added to what the other hunters caught, one duo managing to catch themselves a deer. They were praised for their catch, but all were thanked for their contributions, even if their manners weren’t sincere. Blake remained quiet and got on with what she needed to, keeping warm and making sure her little hut was keeping the wind out.

It wasn’t just her hut though, she shared it with several other women both old and young, most choosing to stay away from her but a couple staying close on the cold nights where the winds howled and threatened to tear the fabric off the wood and bone frame.

She was thankful these humans were more focused on survival, and that the few that had at least somewhat accepted her were willing to aid her as although she’d been with the White Fang, living in the frozen tundra that was the “real north” was harder than she had expected. At least with the fang she had food and better shelter, warmer climates too.

Limbs freezing and a lack of food, stories that made the Grimm sound like large pests, at least they couldn’t bring the dead back to life, not like those White Walkers she was told about. But it wasn’t the stories that bothered her the most, it was the cold. He cat ears often getting chilled and she hated staying still even when she was tired.

She’d been told many things of how to keep warm. Stay by fires, hide in caves or behind large rocks, any shelter was preferable to none. Exercise by the means of fighting was even better, but apparently the best thing for the cold was to fuck. She’d hear men and women every night doing this, keeping themselves warm, surviving by using one another repeatedly. It was something Blake wasn’t against, but she had her principles, and for the time being she wasn’t about to let some random male or even female keep warm in an intimate fashion.

A new morning arose with Blake being roused from the warmth she’d found during the night. With a small hiss she sat up, a hunter looking to her ears atop her head which quickly folded down.

“Get out.” She hissed.

“I’m your partner today. Get up, there was howling in the night and the leader thinks maybe we can get ourselves a couple of wolves” Blake groaned and nodded. She’d heard the wolves and wouldn’t mind putting herself back in a more favourable position with a wolf kill.

“Leave, I’ll be out in a moment.” She said softly, the flats of her home clapping shut, a sound that caused a few others inside to stir. _Great, now they’ll be pissy they got woken up._ Her tent wasn’t filled with hunters, these women were the cooks and cleaners, helped with gathering and training with crude looking blades.

Blake stumbled out into the cold winter, snow crunching beneath her feet and the wind snapping at the fur cloak she now almost lived in every moment of every day. The stench was something she had gotten used to as bathing in the north was hard. Icy lakes or water so cold that you’d lose your extremities if exposed too long. Even her cat ears had been close to frozen solid more than once.

Walking to where her partner was she looked at him, a man looking to be in his forties with a claw scar across his cheek. _A bear… no. a Wolf?_ She wondered as she warmed her hands near the fire the hunters were gathered around. She wasn’t the last, but nearly.

“Alright you bastards. I’m sure you all heard the wolves last night. I want you all to hunt them, stay safe and come back though, losing a hunter is the worst thing that can happen to us.” Hrorand finished and looked to his side pulling his son closer. “Any questions come and ask my boy.”

With that the older man walked away and back to a tent. Her eyes flicked up to Dorrand who was surprisingly already looking at her. Blake’s amber eyes narrowed as she say a smile. He started giving the groups of two their hunting grounds, she knew the time had come for her to be given a harder one, but what she got made her partner curse.

“You sending me to die you stupid fuck?”

“Watch your tongue old man! You realise I’m the leader after the old man drops.” Blake put her hand on her partner’s shoulder.

“Leave it, we’ll come back alive and you can shove it in his face then.” Blake just wanted to get away from the potential fight. _I’m running again, running into an open area._ She’d been warned about the area she had just been sent. Not trees, a boulder in the centre but climbable by wolves and bears as they’d often been seen relaxing on the boulder.

Checking her quiver and making sure she had no food hidden away in any of her pouches Blake was convinced she was ready. Fifteen arrows and Gambol Shroud hidden under her cloak. She still hadn’t fired a shot, hadn’t needed to pull it out since she’d arrived on this frozen land.

“You really think we’ll make it back? Those who go there are always the more experienced and careful. Even then sometimes only one returns, or neither.” Turning to face the older man she maintained an uninterested expression.

“The tribe needs to eat and exercise keeps us warm. I know I’ll make it back but should the worst happen, stay behind me.” Blake said, offering to protect him.

“I don’t need your protection girl, you’re still green here. Just because you got lucky and killed a bear doesn’t mean a thing.” _Pride… a fool._ Blake wasn’t being arrogant, she simply knew that she was more skilled thanks to her training on Remnant, a place she hoped she could return to someday.

“Forget I offered. Let’s get going, standing around talking is freezing my joints already.” With a grunt and knocking her aside with his shoulder, the man began leading the way, something he’d have to do since Blake was yet to remember all the zones and paths. 

* * *

** Nora **

Training with the king of these Seven Kingdoms had been fun for Nora. She’d held back a lot and allowed Robert to get back into the swing of things, literally as he tried to use his own war hammer.

Nora parried and dodged with ease as the king grunted and swore, insulted her and called her terrible things. Nora just poked her tongue out, tripping the fat man and waiting for him to get up each time. It was entertaining until she gave him what she considered a light tap from her hammer.

Robert was knocked flat on his ass, the armour he wore had a dent in it and Ser Barristan even drew his sword. Nora thought she was going to have to fight against this old man and didn’t like the idea of having to subdue him.

Luckily for the both of them, Robert roared back to life. Getting to his feet red cheeked and fuming with rage, he reminded Nora of Yang for the briefest of moments. Though he had black hair and was fat, a male to boot and by no means an attractive man, at least in his current form.

He returned to the match, swinging wildly and with a lot more power than before. Nora could feel it every time she blocked his weapon, a smile grew on her face as she felt the strength that lay behind all that fat. Though she didn’t know it was still nothing compared to when he was in his prime and leading the rebellion that made him king.

But that was over two weeks ago and almost every day since, the king had demanded Nora train with him, something that she didn’t mind doing since she got to beat up on a king. Today had been no different, Robert had worn armour to protect himself as every session he’d ben hit with Nora’s hammer.

Not wanting to wear her hammer out, Nora had requested a training one and Robert had seen to it that she received not one but two, just in case felt like changing her weapon up a little. One was lighter and allowed for faster movements but had less sting to it, Robert honestly preferred it to the heavier one which had winded him on many occasions.

Nora took the king’s powerful blow yet again, blocking it with ease and pushing his weapon to the side before striking him in his breastplate with the pommel of her training war hammer. With a grunt Robert staggered backwards, but as Nora went to sweep his legs from under him he sidestepped. _He moved! He actually moved!_ Inside she was cheering, up until then that move would’ve seen him on his back, again.

“Not today you little monster.” Robert breathed, a smile plastering his face.

“Finally learning that you don’t like it on you bum eh fatty?” Nora taunted. Robert lost his smile immediately and swung hard. Nora dodged and pivoted, swinging her hammer at his bulging gut once again. The impact was solid, but she was using the lighter of the hammers.

Thinking she’d again winded him she eased up, before taking a fist to the side of her face. Stumbling sideways she looked at him in shock. Her aura had taken the damage but she’d let her guard down in front of a man now bellowing with laughter.

“You’re slacking girl.” Robert taunted in return having landed his first real blow against Nora.

“You’re fighting with more fire today! Awesome! Maybe we can get you looking like a king again!” She’d said in excitement but had offended Robert.

“You calling me fat! Again!”

“It’s the truth, but since you’re training with me maybe we can get you looking like me.” Nora posed, her arms rippling as she flexed and showed that she wasn’t joking. A woman from another world who could stomp all over the king in an instant, if she wasn’t so kind hearted.

“Barristan! Would you like to fight this girl, she insulted your king.”

“Your Grace, are you asking me to end this girl’s life?” Nora looked between the two.

“No way, just because you’re a bit overweight and you don’t like me pointing it out?” Nora asked sounding a little hurt by the current tone of things.

“Not to kill her, but to teach her some respect.” Robert growled, hammer at the ready.

“At the same time your Grace?”

“Oh! Old and fat, a two on one! This should be fun!” Nora bounced from side to side, hips and shoulders swaying slightly out of time as she readied herself for a fight.

The knight moved to her left while the king, his fatness moved to her right. Nora was experienced in fighting, she’d been doing it ever since she was a little girl after all. Since she met Ren and they’d lost their village, survival required fighting.

The scratching of steel against a scabbard reached her ears, the older man called Barristan, nicknamed The Bold as Varys had educated her. Head of the Kingsguard and the best swordsman in all the Seven Kingdoms. He was someone Nora was wary about, unlike Robert who she knew was slow and angry, she knew next to nothing about Barristan.

A huff from Robert let her know where the first strike was coming from and she moved to deflect it. But just as she started moving, the sound of moving armour made her change her mind. She dodged Robert’s strike and blocked Barristan’s who quickly move to another, and another, then another. Strike after strike, pinpoint and twice breaching her guard and taking chunks out of her aura, Nora was more than surprised.

_He’s fast… so fast._ Barristan had his reputation for a reason, as a sword fighter he was said to be unmatched in one on one combat and Nora was struggling with him, let alone the constant attacks that came from Robert.

_Left… left… block. Counter! Nope!_ Back peddling Nora found herself getting more and more excited. She hadn’t been pushed like this since Pyrrha and her had been sparring, but it wasn’t like she was going all out, too afraid to hurt them beyond reason. Her aura could take hits where as if she hit them. The thoughts of the guard that had his bones broken by her hammer flickered through her mind.

Feeling a sharp jab and knowing it was Barristan, she looked to find his eyes becoming concerned and confused. He’d just hit her again and nothing had happened. No blood, not even a scratch. She took that moment to end it. With Barristan’s mixed emotions and Nora’s new-found course of action, it was over in four strikes.

One knocking his blade up, the second connecting with his hand, the third being the pommel striking him hard in the chest and the fourth and final blow being with the flat of her hammer against Robert’s armoured stomach. Robert fell to the ground while Barristan only stumbled, baffled by the sudden and accurate counter attack that came from Nora.

Nora put her weapon down, leaning it against the wall as she went over to the table where Robert kept his wine. On said table there was some water that Nora quickly drank, two glasses full before looking back to see the two men whispering to one another. _I wonder if they’re talking about…_ Her thought were interrupted by the knocking on the door.

“Your Grace, you Hand has come to see you.”

“Let him in!” Robert called, walking over to the table and pouring himself and Barristan some wine.

The king’s Hand, Eddard Stark made his way into the king’s personal training room with his eyes falling upon the small girl. Nora remembered seeing him briefly upon his arrival to the capital and the Red Keep.

“Ned! What brings you here? Want to try you hand at fighting this little shit?” Robert gestured to Nora who would happily take the challenge.

“You’ve been beating a woman by training. I thought better of you Your Grace.” Eddard spoke openly, letting his views be known truthfully.

“Other way old man. I beat both of their butts.” Eddard narrowed his eyes at the girl and shook his head.

“No one could be Ser Barristan.” He said flatly, denying Nora’s claim that she could have ever beaten him.

“Lord Stark, I don’t know if I would say she bested me. But there was something that I couldn’t explain. I should have drawn blood but she didn’t even have a scratch. It was like magic.”

“Magic doesn’t exist Barristan, perhaps you’re get too old.” Robert said with laughter following. Nora just looked between them, Barristan confident he’d hit her while the other two denied it since there wasn’t even a mark, and she wasn’t wearing any protection.

“It’s no magic. It’s my aura. We were taught a Beacon that is the manifestation of a person’s soul.” _It won’t do them any harm in knowing, I already told Varys about it._ Nora figured the king would hear it from her or Varys so why not her.

“Then, you’re telling me that I did hit you?” Barristan asked, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword while the three looked at the much shorter girl.

“Yup, I counted three time but I think it was more than that.”

“Absurd, you’d be bleeding or dead by now.” Robert growled, again waving her claim off as impossible.

“Is there a way you can prove this, Miss…” Eddard asked.

“Nora Valkyrie. And of course! Old guy, try and cut me in two at the waist.” Nora put her hands behind her head and stood waiting, her aura active and focus at where she told him to strike.

“You are sure I won’t harm you child?”

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” Nora started giggling as the bewildered looks the three men had were virtually identical.

Hearing the sound of a sword being drawn, Nora looked into Barristan’s eyes and nodded. A smile remained on her face and her relaxed posture showed her confidence in the matter.

“Old Gods protect this girl.” Eddard prayed as Barristan swung. His sword cutting through the air as both Eddard’s and Robert’s faces began to twist into a disgusted form as they thought they knew what would happen.

The sword connected with Nora, her aura taking the blow and leaving the bomber safe and sound. Sure there was a little discomfort as although it took the impact and damage, the force behind the attacks were always felt in some small way.

Nora dropped her arms and she looked at the men one at a time, laughing at the perplexed expressions that each of them wore. _Now I think they’ll believe me. Silly men._

“So, do you believe me now?” None of them spoke as they all tried to process what had just happened, why Nora hadn’t been split in two from the greatest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms.

“How?” Barristan asked.

“I told you, it’s my aura. Think of it like armour, but its invisible and you can’t get through it until it is depleted. And if you give me enough time it recharges too. What I’m saying is, so long as my aura is active them it’s nearly impossible to harm me.” Smiling widely she looked to the king. “That’s why I don’t wear all that heavy armour you offer me.”

“Magic, sorcery.” Robert grumbled. “Ned! What did you come here for. Let us not speak of this anymore.”

“The Hand’s Tournament…”

“Is going to be grand! What other way to celebrate your appointment as my Hand.” Robert boomed loudly, putting a hand on Eddard’s back.

“It cost too much Your Grace, we should call it off, spend the crown’s…”

“Nonsense! You deserve this! The people, need this.” His broad smile was something Nora at least admired, he was easy to please but equally easy to anger.

_A tournament sounds like fun, and that means strong people. Strong people I can play with._ Getting herself worked up and excited, Nora waited for the two old friends to stop arguing. Eddard trying to convince Robert that they couldn’t afford such an extravagant event before trying to get him to lower the winning purses for every event.

Robert denied him with a more deafening shout. He was the King and it was going to be his way. Eventually Eddard gave up after looking to Barristan for assistance but the old knight merely looked away.

“As you wish, Your Grace.” He said, dismissing himself.

“Hey can I fight!” Nora skipped to the king’s side looking up at him. Robert dwarfed her by nearly a foot and a half, not to mention that his gut made her seem to be almost hiding behind him.

“You’re not a knight, only knight can compete.” Barristan said gently. Nora screwed her face up and sighed.

“Then make me a knight. You’re the king so you can do whatever you want.” She stomped the ground and widened her stance. “I want to see what your best fighters are made of.” With a white toothed smile, Nora held Robert’s gaze while his Hand and leader of the Kingsguard looked on.

“And why would I do that? You have no loyalty to me, call yourself a queen of my own castle. I know nothing about you.” Robert was right in his assumptions, but Nora responded quickly.

“I could have killed you by now plenty of times. Even the old guy wouldn’t have saved you.”

“Watch your tone girl, you’re speaking to the King!” Eddard growled as Nora claimed she could have ended the king and the best swordsman in the seven kingdoms.

Nora just wanted to see what they could do and poked her tongue out at Eddard, Robert roared in laughter and put a hand on her orange head of hair.

“You’re a bold one! You remind me of myself when I was younger.”

“So you’ll make me a knight?” Nora asked hopefully.

“”I’ll consider it. For now how about we return to our sparring. I believe I still have time before I must attend other matters.” He looked to Barristan for reassurance with the guard nodding.

“If you’ll excuse me Your Grace, there are things I must attend to in your stead.” Eddard excused himself again, this time leaving the room while the two hammer wielding warriors went at it again, Nora just toying with the fat king while thinking about the tournament.

* * *

**Hope you all enjoyed and Merry Christmas for all those celebrating.**


	11. Twin Stallions

** Pyrrha **

Two large statues depicting a pair of stallions marked the entrance to the Dothraki capital, Vaes Dothrak, a place where Khal Drogo had been guiding his people ever since his marriage to Daenerys. He and his bloodriders took off ahead of the horde that followed, a horde that answered to him alone.

Pyrrha followed the two Targaryens and their northern knight, all four on horseback, something Dany had to beg her husband for since Viserys had been forced to foot after an incident. The Targaryens stood out so much with their silver hair and pale skin, as did Pyrrha with her bloody red and her own pale skin. They were like three distinct beacons now at the head of the horde.

The Otherworlder in Pyrrha, had taken her armour off for the most part and replaced it with Dothraki garments. She still had her headpiece on, she never took that off. Her opera-length gloves had both been removed though and she had on riding gloves in their place. Her torso armour was stored on her horse along with her gorget and bronze bracelet. Her hair had been tied into a chain-link braid so there was no loose hair blowing about.

“Vaes Dothrak, city of the horse-lords.” Ser Jorah said as they stopped under that statues, with Pyrrha looking up and admiring the craftsmanship. _Even in these times, people are still capable of such beautiful art._ She thought with a smile.

“Pile of mud. Mud, shit, twigs, best these savages can do?” Viserys spat, knowing the Khal wasn’t there to answer him, that now fell to his younger sister, the one he sold for Drogo’s army.

“These are my people now. You shouldn’t call them Savages.” Daenerys answered, only for her brother to snap in response.

“I’ll call them what I like, cause they’re my people. This is my army, Khal Drogo is marching the wrong way, with my army.” Viserys started off ahead of the horde with Daenerys beginning to follow after giving him a lot of space.

Pyrrha glared after him, she knew racism and pride all too well. She might be from another planet, but people were still people, and he was potentially the worse she’d met. Still, she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to offend the Khaleesi of this khalasar. She was a guest, someone who should show respect, but she knew Viserys wasn’t her host, that was Drogo and Daenerys.

“If my brother was given an army of Dothraki, could you conquer the seven kingdoms?” Daenerys asked the knight.

“The Dothraki have never crossed the Narrow Sea, they fear any water their horses can’t drink.” He answered, only for her to speak swiftly once more.

“But if they did?”

“If King Robert is fool enough to meet them in open battle, but the men advising him are different.” Jorah answered, as always. He used to live in the North, this much Pyrrha had learned.

“And you know these men?” Daenerys questioned again.

“I fought beside them once. Long ago, now Ned Stark wants my head. He drove me from my lands.” Jorah sounded a little angry revealing this, perhaps it was because of Pyrrha’s presence as she rode just behind the two and was listening to their conversation. Basic was so much easier than Dothraki, though Pyrrha was better than Daenerys currently, thanks to her long exposure with the small village she first found and then the continued tutorage with Daenerys.

“You sold slaves.” Daenerys said, softly, trying not to insult the man who had lost so much. _A knight selling slaves…_

“Aye.” Is all Jorah answered with, clearly not wanting to go into detail.

“Why?” Daenerys asked, pushing her knight for answers.

“I had no money, and an expensive wife.” Jorah said causing Pyrrha to frown in disgust.

“Where is she now?” came another question from the Khaleesi.

“In another place, with another man.” Jorah answered, and the conversation died. Pyrrha followed them along, thinking about all that was said and the fact Jorah had sold people. How Viserys couldn’t be allowed to rule those kingdoms.

Pyrrha found the size of the city to be surprisingly big. Buildings of stone, wood, sticks and cloth. Shelters woven from various material with her current accommodation being left with holes in the roof and walls. She found it strange and off putting, she didn’t like that anyone who wanted to go simply stop in and look, which many did. Her red hair made her stand out as much if not more than the Targaryens.

Polishing her armour had become a daily routine for Pyrrha, she didn’t want it to deteriorate since what she had brought with her was all she had of Remnant. It held sentimental value to her and was also well crafted, better than anything she’d seen so far, to her knowledge.

As the days passed in Vaes Dothrak, Pyrrha ventured out for hours at a time. She explored the market places and tried as many things as she could. Most cost money, gold and silver for which she had none. She only tried what she was offered, which was always a risk.

She had to leave the city boundaries to practice, and every day she made that trip. The penalty for drawing a blade in Vaes Dothrak was death, and even with her skill, semblance and aura, she knew she could not stop an entire city. So, she went outside the boundaries dressed in Dothraki rags, as Viserys called them, and trained until the sun rose too high or fell too low. No matter the time she always came back as a sweating mess.

She might not have been a man, a warrior to many of the Dothraki, but at six feet tall, having broad shoulders and being more built than the majority of the men, they knew that this outsider was different. This day was no different from another, and as she walked through the door a voice greeted her.

“Master, you come back mess again.” The woman said. Her skin copper and eyes like dark almonds, normal for the Dothraki. Her hair was black along with her eyes, something Pyrrha couldn’t get used to. They seemed to always be hiding something.

“Zhali.” Pyrrha sighed as she placed Milo and Akouo down. “I told you not to call me that. I am not your master, I do not believe in slavery.” Pyrrha had lost count of how many times she had corrected, tried to correct her ‘handmaiden’ as Daenerys called her.

“Khaleesi gave me to you. You are the master now.” Zhali came to Pyrrha and helped her out of the clothing she was in. Pyrrha had become more used to showing off some skin, but unlike many of the Dothraki woman, she would not expose her waist or chest. There were just some things she refused to do, and Zhali constantly complained that it would be easier…

“You should take binding off. They are just tits. All women have them.” Zhali commented as she started rubbing Pyrrha’s shoulders and upper back with the wet cloth.

“I am uncomfortable about it. Do not speak about my anatomy that way.” A blushing Pyrrha responded as she took a cloth and began cleaning the sweat from her front.

“Is there something wrong with them master?” The handmaiden asked.

“No! They’re perfectly… normal breasts… and I’m not your master!” Rosy cheeked and completely embarrassed, Pyrrha tried pushing it to the back of her mind.

After Pyrrha was cleaned, she dressed in a more comfortable attire. Another handmaiden was sent for her, this one belonging to Daenerys and requested that the red head follow her to the Kahleesi’s quarters.

“Remain here Zhali, I’ll be back and bring you some dinner.” Pyrrha said with a smile that was returned quickly by her shorter handmaiden. She was taller than Nora though, not a great accomplishment when the bomber stood barely over five feet.

She followed the girl through the streets, dirt, with most wearing nothing but bare feet. Pyrrha was the same, bare foot and careless with her step. Aura shielded her feet with every step so nothing sharp or dangerous would harm her, she was an expert with her aura control having gained so much more from her teammate Ren who had even more control.

The streets were lined with torches now, the sun having lowered further since her return from her training and cleaning. The handmaiden even held a small torch to help light the way. Stopping outside Daenerys’ home, the handmaiden gestured for her to enter. And she did, entering the structure to see Daenerys pacing and the knight Jorah, standing there watching.

“Good evening, Jorah, Daenerys.” Pyrrha said with a smile, unsure exactly what was happening.

“I hit him… I hit the dragon.” Daenerys said without even a welcome.

“Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon. Viserys is less than the shadow of a snake.” Jorah insulted the man Pyrrha had thought he had sworn himself to.

“He is still the true king.” Daenerys said in defence of her brother who, from all Pyrrha had seen, was a fool, selfish, short tempered, weak.

“Truth now. Do you want to see your brother sitting on the Iron Throne?” Jorah asked taking a few steps forwards.

The room was well lit and although neither had returned Pyrrha’s greeting they had both glazed at her briefly. She walked to the sit and looked over the gifts Dany had received and touched a few of them, listening to the conversation and waiting for her chance to speak.

“No… The common people are waiting for him… Illyrio said, they are sewing dragon banners and praying for his return.” Daenerys sounded defeated.

“The common people pray for rain, for health and a summer that never ends. They don’t care what games the High Lords play.” Jorah told her bluntly.

“What do you pray for, Ser Jorah?” Daenerys asked softly.

“Home.” His answered easily.

“And you Pyrrha?” Daenerys asked, now including Pyrrha.

“Same as Jorah. I want to go home, but it seems like I’m on a different planet.” Pyrrha answered without looking up.

“Then what would you pray for on this planet?” Daenerys reworked her question. This time Pyrrha looked up and wandered closer, standing before the two. She stood almost as tall as Jorah and was the tallest woman Dany had seen.

“Peace. Everyone wants peace, or at least common people do.” Pyrrha said.

“I pray for home too.” Dany answered them both, all three with a common goal yet Pyrrha felt the furthest from getting there. “My brother will never take back the Seven Kingdoms. He couldn’t lead an army even if my husband gave him one. He’ll never take us home.” She realised with a worried expression crawling over her face.

Jorah couldn’t speak any more and looked a little lost. He had his true answer now, but Pyrrha had other questions, more important ones in her mind.

“So what if you can’t get home. I can’t think of any way I can either, there is no space flight, not even any flying vehicles in this world. Not that I would know where to look out there.” Pyrrha said with a demoralised sigh at the end.

“What if I can’t get home? It’s all I dream about.” Daenerys said in disbelief.

“If home is all you dream of, then I fear for your life. Jorah just said, you just said, your brother wouldn’t suit the crown.” Pyrrha answered.

“So you’re telling me I should let my dream go? That I should just let that usurper remain there?” Daenerys asked getting visibly worked up now.

“No, what I’m saying is that you should wait…”

“I’ve been waiting since the day I was born! I never got to see my home or any other family other than Viserys!” Daenerys yelled.

“Then wait longer!” Pyrrha yelled down at Daenerys who was over half a foot shorter. “You’ve been married, sold. Yet you are now in the most powerful position you have ever found yourself. You even stood up to your abusive brother today.” Pyrrha waited as she watched Daenerys mull it over.

“But… I struck the dragon.” Dany said sounding scared once more.

“Men are not dragons. Woman aren’t either. You were there when the Dothraki were, you both were, seen with your own eyes how I dispatched so many riders. Could Viserys, even your brother Rhaegar do that? Could they survive that?” Pyrrha demanded an answer.

“Viserys couldn’t, but if what Jorah said is true… Rhaegar…”

“Would have died to the hundreds of arrows that were fired at him. What this woman did… it was like magic. She, you should be dead.” Jorah said as he fully rounded on Pyrrha.

“Men are not dragons, you are not a dragon. That may be your sigil, your people might have ridden them. But at any time a dragon could end a life without question.” Pyrrha said softer now.

“Even your life?” Jorah asked. Pyrrha eyed him while she thought it over. _My aura can take the fire from Dust and bullets… maybe it could withstand dragon fire._ She wondered as she cast her gaze to the three stone dragon eggs.

“I don’t know. I’ve never faced a dragon before, but I’ve faced things far stronger than Dothraki or men dressed in old armour with nothing but blades and arrows.” She wasn’t gloating at all, back on Remnant she had to content with Dust, bullets, semblances, Grimm and the worst of all, people. People that knew who she was and often surrounded her for photos or autographs.

“Then what have you fought. I seen first hand as did the Khal’s followers, dozens dead amongst the sand and grass, all because they couldn’t take down a single woman.” Jorah said. Pyrrha didn’t know how to take it, was he complimenting her ability, taking a dig at her, mocking her or perhaps the Dothraki. Looking to Daenerys, Pyrrha saw she didn’t know either.

“They are called Creatures of Grimm. They resemble animals such as wolves, bears, scorpions, birds, snakes and more.” Pyrrha could see that Jorah didn’t seem convinced they were worse, but she had only just started. “But they are all much larger, faster, stronger, the longer they live the more intelligent some can get too. Beowolves and Ursa are the more common and weaker Grimm, but even they can slaughter normal people with ease. They don’t have aura like me as it is said they don’t have souls, but most are… born? Created?... they all appear with bones, be they spikes, claws, fangs or armour, it doesn’t matter.”

“Wolves with armour and no souls?” Jorah asked with Pyrrha nodding.

“But they are much larger than a wolf. As tall as a man on all fours, but they can stand on two legs to some extent.” Pyrrha told them.

“Walking wolves, with armour… Are you making this up?” Daenerys asked.

“I told you that I’ve faced worse, and Beowolves are considered one of the weaker Grimm types, but they travel in packs.” Pyrrha said.

“Sounds very wolf like to me. Do you think they could kill a Dothraki horse and rider?” Jorah questioned. This made Pyrrha think and soon nod.

“It depends on the horse and rider, but Grimm are dangerous. The older they get the larger they grow, the more armour that covers them. We call the old ones alphas, now one of them would be able to take out a Dothraki and his horse without question, probably more than just one.” Pyrrha informed them, much to their disbelief.

“And you were fighting them why?” Daenerys asked.

“Because I wanted to help people, protect them. I wanted to make the world a safer place and the greatest threat to human and Faunus kind on Remnant, is the Grimm.” She said confidently, her chest puffed a little and her shoulders back. “I was destined to help humanity drive back those monsters… but now.” Pyrrha looked down, bare feet on the woven mats on the cold ground. She wasn’t on Remnant anymore, she could fulfil her destiny.

“Perhaps you can find a new destiny here. At the Khaleesi’s side.” Jorah said offering Pyrrha an alternative. Pyrrha looked to Daenerys and wondered what the small girl’s plans were. She was married to a Khal of the Dothraki and her brother wanted the throne.

“I will remain with you two for a time… But I need to find out more of this world for myself. Information from one source is often biased. When the time comes, perhaps I will depart and see these seven kingdoms for myself.” Pyrrha said as she started thinking about what she would do and how she would get there.

“You would not swear yourself to me and join my husbands khalasar?” Daenerys asked.

“No. I don’t know much, but I know that the Dothraki culture and believe is not for me. They are fierce warriors… but slavery is something I cannot be a part of. On Remnant it was illegal.” Pyrrha told them while looking towards Jorah.

“Slavery might have been illegal in your world, but are you sure it never happened? People can be… forced, to do things they know they shouldn’t.” Jorah said as he reflected on his own choices.

“Or they just do it. Viserys sold me to Drogo, calls me a whore.” Daenerys stated looking sad, small. _You really do have a terrible brother._ Pyrrha thought.

“There is a species, similar to humans save for small differences. Faunus, they have an animal trait and some heightened senses. Some have ears, tails, claws, if they went one on one with average human I’d put my lien on the Faunus every time.” She looked over the two people and smiled sadly. “They are mistreated and often abused. They used to be slaves but after the great war they were granted an island to call their own… but they still aren’t equal to humans, that is something that is changing very slowly.”

There would always be divides between people, different religions, cultures, skin colours or added body parts in the case of Faunus. This Pyrrha knew well, even more so here on this world where slavery was openly practised and woman little more than trophies. But in Jorah she saw marred honour. In Daenerys muddied history from what she had heard of her old family, but there was so much more she didn’t know.

“How about we all agree that we will never take a slave, sell a person as property, try to offer a hand to anyone who needs help.” Daenerys looked up at Pyrrha, the violet coloured eyes of Valyrians gazing up into the emerald green of Pyrrha’s eyes.

“How? I’m just a…” Dany started.

“Khaleesi. Second to Drogo himself.” Jorah started.

“Kind of like a queen of the horse-lords right? Meaning that you have the power to change how Drogo does things… maybe to a minor extent, but still. You can do more good than your brother can.” Pyrrha said confidently.

Daenerys looked between her knight and the Otherworlder as she pondered what to do. _All that responsibility given to a child of fifteen._ Daenerys had her fifteenth birthday not long before reaching Vaes Dothrak. _Her family name makes her known and gives a false sense of pressure to achieve something._ It was then that Pyrrha knew why she felt a connection to Dany. They were both put on a pedestal, raised above others and expected to accomplish more.

“I will leave you two woman to it then.” Jorah said as he made for the door, only for Pyrrha to call for him.

“Jorah, you didn’t promise.” Her emerald eyes held firm, but Jorah didn’t seem to care.

“We’re with the Dothraki, slavery is what they do. But I shall never again take one, you have my word.” He bowed to Daenerys and then left the two woman alone.

“You could be a great commander of the khalasar.” Dany commented as she walked over to the dragon eggs that were kept near her at all times.

“I don’t know how to ride a horse like they do. Dothraki don’t consider women as warriors either.” Pyrrha said.

“I’ll talk with my husband. See if he can’t have someone train you to ride like they do.” Dany’s offer wasn’t… too far out there. Pyrrha wanted to know too, if she had to ride while being with the horse-lords, then she wanted to be good at it. “Hold this.” Dany said and passed her one of the dragon eggs.

“It’s… it’s warm.” Pyrrha said as she realised. Though they were still as hard as rocks, their patterns and texture looked and felt amazing. “To think… your family once had more dragons than riders.” Pyrrha mused about the fact that so many dragons used to live less than a couple of centuries ago.

“I wonder if these ones will hatch. Three dragons and a Dothraki horde… I could…” Dany paused and looked wide eyed at Pyrrha who began to smile. There it was, the first seeds planted that it was Dany who should take back the Iron Throne, not her foolish brother.

“Who knows. Better start praying to your gods.” Pyrrha responded, hands stroking the surface of the stone egg. Such a little thing that could grow into something dangerous and larger than a house.

* * *

**Hey everyone! Short chapter compared to the rest I know, but I think I’ll stick to the one person POV per chapter for a while. Hopefully that’ll mean chapters more often as I won’t have to stress about writing 5K words or above.**


	12. The Hand’s Tourney

** Nora **

As the “Hand’s Tournament” drew closer, Robert and Nora continued their training each and every day. He was the king and could do as he pleased, leaving it to his small council to take care of the kingdom. It was often said he was a poor king, but still better than the last of which Robert had told Nora a great deal about over the weeks since they’d met.

Nora came to her own opinion that Robert was wronged, so was his hand, Eddard. One had lost a sister and the other his betrothed, his beloved, Lyanna Stark. Nora had remembered the name of the one who kidnapped her too, Rhaegar, the son of the Mad King. She was glad she wasn’t around when there was so much war, killing Grimm was easy, but she doubted she had the stomach to end humans.

The day of the tournament arrived with Knights and their squires, men-at-arms, traders, craftsmen and sometimes even whores. For over a week they had been arriving and filling the capital to the point the City Watch had become overwhelmed. Understaffed, they couldn’t keep order, not completely. But that didn’t concern the king, or Nora who were both simply looking forwards to the tournament.

Robert had declared he was going to compete in the melee which had scared off some of the competition, but for those smart enough to know what would happen, they remained to compete. There was a little over forty known people going to be involved including hedge knights, freeriders and newly made squires, all searching to build themselves a reputation.

Both Robert and Nora were going to compete and had come to the conclusion that should they be the last two competitors left standing, they would fight, and Nora would fall. A king was a king after all and he needed to be seen as strong, something he was building to be once more with Nora’s constant training.

Just a couple of days later, Nora was in her own tent that had being erected behind the king’s own. Inside she had a gift waiting for her, and as she walked in eating not one, but two great big sizzled sausages, she squealed like the excited girl she was.

“You like your gift. Good! We’ll both be wearing the stag of my house today, but yours won’t be crowned.” Robert jested. Nora just threw her sausages aside and went to the newly forged armour that was being supported by a strong type of wood.

“It’s… so hard… and awesome!” Nora yelled, her hand flowing over the stag that had been etched into the breastplate. The helmet had antlers added too, smaller ones than Robert’s personal helm, but it was clear what the king was doing.

“Good! We’ll be two beasts charging through our opponents. Well make them all forfeit to the Baratheon stag!” Robert told her, his face swelling with pride and a fire that hadn’t been there in quite some time. He longed to get back out and compete, and this would be his first in many years.

“The yellow isn’t really my colour. Maybe I’ll get some of the fabric dyed in pink for next time.” Nora pondered allowed getting a laugh from the king.

“You can colour it how you want, just don’t cover the stag.” His voice wavered from joy to something more, defensive.

“The stag is the animal of the king. Mine might not be crowned but it’ll still bring attention to your house.” Nora said happily, knowing that Robert was slowly trying to work her towards swearing loyalty to himself, the Seven Kingdoms, and House Baratheon. _I wonder if Ren would pick someone, a house. It’s like a big family right?_

“Thatta girl. I’ll leave you to try it on. Come to my tent once you’re done… we’ll drink to celebrate!” But Robert didn’t leave right away, only when Nora checked that he was gone before she started changing. Robert blushed beneath his beard and walked out. “I’ll send in some maids to help with the armour.”

It took a while for the maids to get Nora fully dressed in the armour that was fit for a knight, not that she was as Robert still hadn’t knighted her, much to her annoyance. Varys had spoken to her too and informed her that there weren’t any female Knights in the kingdoms. It was unladylike, woman should be kept at home, raising kids and looking after the house or hold if their husband was away. _This world is weird, the rules are all…_

“That’s tight.” Nora said as the maids finished strapping the armour on her.

“It’s made to be. Lose armour would be terrible in battle.” One commented. Nora was just more surprised that the armour didn’t hurt her rather large bust. Her breasts were bound with bindings so they were flatter. It felt strange, but not unlike the sports bras she wore.

“Well, I’ll go show the king. Pass me the helmet.” Nora took the helmet and placed it over her ginger hair that had been tucked into the leather underneath. It wasn’t hard for her to move, more strange than anything else. She was heavier, noisier and she couldn’t feel anything thanks to the gauntlets.

Standing outside the king’s tent, she heard raised voices and halted her advance. She listened in and recognised Robert’s loud voice. A guard wandered by looking at her. It must have been the Baratheon themed armour as she wasn’t even asked a question.

“Your Grace, it’s made too small, it won’t go.” Came the scared voice from what sounded like just a boy from within Nora’s helmet.

“Your mother was dumb whore with a fat arse, did you know that?” Robert commented, causing Nora to feel emotion again. Sure Robert was usually a good man, but he slept with so many woman other than his wife, insulted even his loyalist supporters, swore and cursed, drank and fucked, and now he was berating a boy’s mother. _I should punch him in the nose._ Nora thought, but she wouldn’t be able to reach that high. Robert was a tall man at six feet six inches tall.

“Look at this idiot. One ball and no brains. He cant even put a man’s armour on ‘em properly.” Robert growled; his voice still loud as usual.

“The boy isn’t at fault. You’re too fat for your armour.” A man responded, with a voice that Nora had grown to know rather well.

“Fat? Fat is it? Is that how you speak to your king?” There was a silence that hung in the air for barely a few seconds before Nora heard the king wheeze and then and then erupt into a storm of laughter. She smiled as Eddard Stark had spoken so bluntly to the king, he truly was his friend and closest thing to an equal.

“Oh its funny is it?” Came a soft question from Robert as Nora was now giggling and leaning closer to the fabric of the tent.

“No, Your Grace.” The boy said sounding submissive and scared.

“No? You don’t the Hand’s joke?” Robert asked again. Silence.

“You’re torturing the poor boy.” Came Eddard’s gruff tone.

“You heard the Hand. The king’s too fat for his armour. Go find the breastplate stretcher!” Robert ordered. “Now!” Nora stood back from the tent as she heard footsteps and say a boy with golden hair walking past looking both embarrassed and pleased to be out of the tent. Laughter soon followed, yet Nora didn’t want to intrude, but she would listen. Varys had told her not to be blind, to keep her eyes and ears open, alert at all times. _Learn when to enter, learn when to leave._ She told herself. It was hard considering her bubbly personality.

“The breastplate stretcher?” Came Eddard’s voice.

“How long before he figures it out?” Robert said.

“Maybe you should have one invented?” Eddard suggested.

“Alright, alright. You watch me out there.” Robert told him.

“You have no business out there. Leave that for the lesser men.” Eddard said.

“Why? Because I’m King? Piss on that. I wanna hit somebody.” Robert growled, his voice now sounding agitated.

“Your Grace,” Came a third voice, another she knew. “it is not seemly that the king should compete in the melee. It would not be a fair contest. Who would dare strike you?” Ser Barristan asked.

“Anyone who can. And the last man left standing…”

“… will be you.” Eddard finished. Ser Barristan is right. There’s not a man in the Seven Kingdoms who would dare risk your displeasure by hurting you.” Something hit the floor, what it was Nora could not tell.

“Are you both telling me, those prancing cravens will let me win?” Robert asked.

“For a certainty.” Eddard sounded so very confident in his answer and Nora could see why. Injuring the king could bring about ill-treatment, even if it was an accident.

The were more footsteps and Nora considered going inside to see if she could help, but that was when a clang rung out and her heart sped up. Her armoured hands gripped her weapon, Magnhild, tightly.

“Get out.” Came a deep, low command from the king. “Get out before I kill you.” Nora relaxed her hands and sighed. _He’s such an angry person._ “Not you Ned.” Ser Barristan left the tent in a hurry, the king’s breastplate in his hands.

“No I’m not thirsty.” Ned said as he apparently refused some wine.

“Drink. Your king commands it.” Robert told him. Damn you Ned Stark. You and Jon Arryn,” Nora strained her ears, this was a name she had heard only mentioned before. “I loved you both. What have you done to me? You were the one should have been king, you or Jon.”

“You had the better claim, Your Grace.” Ned admitted.

“I told you to drink, not to argue. You made me king, you could least have the courtesy to listen when I talk, damn you. Look at me Ned. Look at what kinging has done to me. Gods, too fat for my armour, how did it come to this?” Before Ned could even speak, Robert cut him off and commanded him yet again. “Drink and stay quiet, the king is talking.”

Nora listened and felt bad for Robert, and a lot of the people he mentioned. The queen, Cersei hadn’t taken Nora’s presence very well. She even called Nora a whore, one of Roberts latest toys, not that Nora had let the king do any such thing to her. She understood the queen’s anger, having a husband who openly slept with and had made several children with other woman. _Ren would never do such a thing._ She knew that was true, Ren was too good, too honest.

Then as Robert brought up the part about Cersei looking beautiful, he told Ned and unknowingly Nora, that she guarded her cunt well, like a fortress protected it. Then there was the mention of the Targaryen prince, Viserys. Lord Jon Arryn once again too. How Robert loved the man like a father. He had told Nora how he and Ned were sent there as young boys to learn from Lord Arryn, that’s where they met and grew into great friends.

“I’m sorry about your girl Ned. Truly. About the wolf I mean. My son was lying, I’d stake my soul on it. At least the beast got away, too bad we haven’t caught the woman that struck you.” _Someone hit Ned! Oooo, how bold._

“It is in the past, and we both know the truth of the matter. Her Grace will be content knowing we have people looking for the culprit yes?” Ned asked with Robert laughing.

“Don’t be foolish. She won’t be happy until the wolf’s head is hanging from some fucking wall. I called the search off weeks ago. No need wasting manpower on nothing.” Robert said.

“Thank you, Your… Robert.” There was a roar as Robert slapped him friend on the back, even Nora thought it sounded painful.

“Let me tell you a secret Ned. More than once, I have dreamed of giving up the crown. Take a ship for the Free Cities with my horse and my hammer, spend my time warring and whoring, that’s what I was made for. The sellsword king, how the singers would love me.” Laughter boomed from inside the tent, but Eddard wasn’t laughing and Nora was wondering if that really was the truth of it. She looked about and walked around the large tent, checking for others, no one.

“You know what stops me Ned? The thought of Joffery on the throne, with Cersei whispering in his ear. My own son, how could I have made such a… brat, Ned?”

“He’s only a boy. He…” Nora stepped into the tent wearing her full armour. From helmet to boot she was like a tiny Robert Baratheon, hammer and all. Small antlers sticking from the top sides of her helm, she looked the part of Baratheon bannerman for sure. She took her helmet off and beamed a smiled at Robert and Ned.

“How does it look? Think they’ll know I’m a girl under all this?” Nora asked, giving the two men something else to think and talk about.

Robert laughed and began walking around her, lifting her arms one at a time judging the movement she had and the fine craftsmanship of the armour itself. Ned just looked her over and shook his head.

“She’s going in the melee?” Ned asked.

“Yes.”

“Yup!”

Robert and Nora both said, smiling at one another. Robert’s stomach though not as large as it used to be a few weeks ago, still poked out from his one buttoned tunic. Nora looked at him and giggled.

“Mr Stark was right, too fat for your armour.” She ducked under a strike from Robert, quicker than when she first met him, and moved away, backing towards the table where another polished horn was. Nora picked it up and filled it to the brim, overflowing it and then turning towards the two men. “Bottoms up.”

Upending the horn, Nora downed the lot in one single attempt. She felt it burning and sting her throat, she hadn’t drunken anything like it before and once she pulled the cup away, coughing and belching, she looked at Robert with watery eyes.

“See that Ned! She’s a Baratheon through and through.” Robert boomed; his former gloomy mood replaced once again with a burning fire.

“She’s a woman, she can’t fight…”

“Can to! I could sit you on your arse, King Robert, Barristan too.” Nora claimed, boldly, stepping towards Eddard. Beer that she spilled, dripping from the fingertips of her right gauntlet. Eddard looked to the king.

“You were going to be fighting against her?” He asked.

“Of course! And I was going to win!” Robert declared. “But you and Selmy, Cersei too, you’re all right. No one would go all out against me. Even Nora here can’t.”

Nora seen the defeated look in his eyes, knowing he was thinking about the craven men that would submit rather than fight him. She looked back up at Stark and then again at Robert. A smile crept to her face and she trotted over to his war hammer, the very one that caved in Rhaegar’s chestplate and ended his life. Leaning hers against the racking, she took Roberts and turned to the both, holding without struggle.

“What if I used this? The King’s champion in the melee.” Nora suggested.

“No, people will target you child…” Ned started, but Robert shut him down again.

“Yes… Yes! The King’s weapon on the battlefield, a man, small man wielding my mighty hammer.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them while grinning through his beard. “I’ll have them put blunt covers over the points, then you can take it to the melee.” Nora beamed at him.

“I won’t lose, I can’t lose.” The two hammer wielding warriors stared at one another, Robert completely dwarfing Nora, but both knowing the stronger of the two.

With their new plan settled, against Eddard’s protests, the three made their way to the jousting field with Nora turning away to go and stand amongst the commoners. She watched the entire day from there, every ride, every knight, every lance breaking and was a part of all the cheers as she watched man after man, playing at war. All for the chance to win a bag of gold, just like she would be during the melee.

There wasn’t anything noteworthy that she found, save for learning a few names and taking a liking to the one they called The Hound, Sandor Clegane was his real name, but she liked him for the hound-head helm. The only thing that was both decorative and purpose built. _I bet that strikes fear into a few riders. Fighting a hound, a mounted dog._ People look at her funnily from time to time as she cheered and hopped from foot to foot.

It was when what in comparison was a tiny little man, still about six foot, was paired up to ride against the one they called the mountain. A man at near eight feet Nora heard people say. He was the largest man she’d ever seen, in Westeros or on Remnant. His horse looked small beneath him even though it was still larger than his opponent’s, the surprise that silenced the crowned before most of them screamed their applause, was that the man two feet smaller, had won.

What followed was like a blur. People were screaming, there were deeply horrific shrieks as the horse the mountain had been riding, was killed by the man himself. Nora watched it feeling helpless, but the horse wasn’t the only target and with one swing, the Knight of Flowers, was knocked from his horse and began to be beaten. Nora was about to go herself when she heard the sound of steel clashing.

Checking it out for herself, it was none other than The Hound, holding his brother back as the larger sibling began swinging at Sandor with the apparent intent on killing him. Nora wasn’t sure if it was excitement of concern that caused her heart to race, but it all ended when Robert’s voice made even the birds scatter.

“STOP THIS MADNESS! IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!” The hound fell to one knee, while The Mountain, Ser Gregor, tossed his sword at the ground and stormed off. But that had also decided the final ride of the jousting tournament as the Knight of Flowers, lifted the Hound’s hand and proclaimed him the champion, in honour of the man who saved his life. Nora couldn’t stop herself from whistling.

The melee followed up the conclusion of the archery competition that Nora found, interesting. She had never been one for a bow and in her world there was guns, only on very rare occasion did people use a bow for their primary weapon. Still, in these times she could see the use of a bow being very handy, especially in war time and hunting. People could only get so close to some animals with a spear while hunting.

As the melee participants made there way onto the designated field of combat, a large fenced off zone with a lot of viewpoints for people to sit and watch and cheer. Nora again had the handmaids help her into the Baratheon styled armour, a smaller version of King Robert’s armour. She went to the entrance without her weapon, Robert’s weapon. There were whispers that the king was going to participate, but Nora knew better, she’d overheard the conversation between Robert, Selmy and Eddard. He would not be fighting, but she would be and under his banner. A crownless stag was still a stag, and one was etched into the front of her armour, plus the smaller antlers on her helm.

Nora seen Eddard looking at her and beside him a younger beauty. _Who is that, she’s pretty._ Nora thought to herself before she saw the king walking towards her. _Remember to bow, at least in public._ She told herself and did just that as he came close enough. Towering above her with his hammer in hand, it might have looked like he was going to crush the small knight, fully armoured and just over five feet tall, not a fearsome stag by any means.

Off to the side she could see Eddard and the girl, but also the first man that had been friendly to her since her arrival in Westeros and the chaos she caused. Renly Baratheon, the man who had taken her in and introduced her to Varys. She liked the younger of the two Baratheons she’d met, the oldest and youngest brothers were very different but still held strong similarities in their colouring and height. Though, Robert was taller, not to mention fatter.

“This will put a target on your back. You’re sure you can win?” Robert kept his voice low and underneath the helm, Nora smiled.

“Of course I’m going to win. And I’ll make sure not to hurt anyone too badly.” Nora told him and the fat king laughed.

“Good! Take it then, at least a part of me will strike someone.” Robert handed over his hammer, the very one to take down Rhaegar, the very one that won him the Iron Throne.

Nora took in both hands, the grip in her left hand with her right supporting the bulky head that had wooden sheathes strapped around the two sharp points and another on the bottom of the shaft that was also pointed steel. Nora didn’t move when Robert let her take the full weight of it, and those around that seen the gesture began whispering. Nora’s blue eyes gleamed as Robert moved out of the way and gave her a hard slap on her plated back which prompted her forwards.

The melee was to be on foot and instead of the fortyish combatants that were expected, another twenty had put their names in late. Not that Nora cared, she would take anyone down that challenged her, she’d take everyone down and show Westeros that the stag still held strength in arms.

Two hours was all it took for the melee to come to a close. There was blood and broken bones, strains and sprains, confusion and disbelief. Not because of the melee, but the tiny knight that was wreaking havoc without so much as taking a hit. Even the faster and more nimble of the combatants couldn’t land a blow in what seemed to be an even faster and agile fully plated knight.

None of the knights were worth much note, save for when Thoros of Myr, the man who fought with a flaming sword finally stepped up to face the mystery Baratheon knight. Nora who was having fun and taking it lightly, suffered her first few hits in that engagement. His sword rung off her helm twice and her torso thrice more. But then she got serious, battering Thoros and deflecting his counter attacks.

In the end Nora tripped Thoros, he hit the ground but before he could get up, she had demanded he yield as she held King Robert’s hammer over her head, ready to strike down should the man be fool enough to continue. Thankfully, Thoros, although considered a bit mad, yielded to the mystery knight and the crowd, Robert himself, began to roar. Applause rained down upon Nora who was giddy beneath her helmet. _I could get used to this._

She found Robert as she and Thoros made for the exit and in complete silence, raised the large and bulky weapon up in victory. It was moment Robert, nor his friends and advisors would forget. The commonfolk and lesser nobles would remember it too. Not because it was silent, but because Nora held it up, single handed.

* * *

**So the GOT fever is back and I hope you all enjoyed the first episode of the final season :’( I can’t wait to see how they wrap it up personally.**

**In the next chapter, expect something a little different, and a change from the GOT canon. Some of you will hate it, others might not care.**

**And thanks for the positive feedback from the last chapter! I really appreciate it.**


	13. Gods Eye Treasures

** Yang **

Surfacing from the water and drawing a deep and well need breath, Yang wiped her hair from her forehead. She had been in the water for several hours already that day, which had become rather common as she searched.

Her hair was tied back into two braids and then twisted into a single braid. She needed to keep as much of her hair out of her face and away from whatever might be under the surface of the Gods Eye. A great lake with an island in the centre had much history in Westeros.

A large ancient fortress, the largest ever built in Westeros stood over the northern end of the lake with a few small other buildings and holdings scattered around the rest. Yang had her own tent set up on the northern bank under some trees, there is where her clothing and money waited for her under the watchful eyes of Lady.

Lady had been a handful for the first couple of weeks since she rescued her front Eddard Stark’s Valyrian blade. Whining into all hours of the night, growl and snapping, barking and resisting Yang as she tried to get the direwolf to follow her. But as time dragged and Yang tried morning and night to gain the trust of the calmest of the Stark’s direwolves, Lady caved and one morning much to Yang’s surprise, Lady was lying next to her. Ever since that morning Yang and Lady had become closer, but Yang hated the name Lady and referred to her as Embla.

Thus, each day since learning of the treasures that may or may not lie at the bottom of the Gods Eye, somewhere, Yang has left Embla to watch over the money she’d gathered from working at the Inn while she set to searching the floor of the lake. It had been a long time already and Yang was being methodical. She’s learned of the story and the approximate location the dragons and their riders fell, but still she had found nothing.

Taking her time to swim to the shoreline performing a very relaxed backstroke, she gazed up at the clouds above her. _Don’t worry Rubes. I’m doing fine. Just keep training, you’ll be a great Huntress like mum._ She always meant Summer when she referred to her mother. As she rolled to see if she could yet stand in the shallows, her eyes caught sight of someone running along the shore.

Speeding up a little, Yang reached the shallows before the person got too close. She needn’t have worried as the person was small, just a boy from a nearby family that must have gone out on his own and seen her swimming or diving.

Yang walked from the lake, water trickling down her body and over her ripped physique. Her washboard abdomen, arms showing the work she put in, and thick legs that gave her a powerful base. She wasn’t naked however, that would have been too much even for Yang. Underwear for her lower half and bindings for her chest, things from this world as she had taken to saving her clothing from Remnant.

“Hey kid, where are your parents at?” Yang asked as she looked down at the boy, who was obviously looking at her. Being his age he likely hadn’t seen a girl let alone a young woman other than family members in the lack of clothing that Yang was in.

“I… They are at home. Father is always busy and Mother is looking after my little sister.” The boy told her.

“And you’ve come out here all alone? That’s very brave of you. What if I ate little boys for dinner?” Yang teased getting a smile from the boy.

“No, you eat fish and you feed your dog too.” This revealed that not only had the boy been watching but watching often.

“Sneaking little guy aren’t you.” She shivered as the cold started getting to her, thanks to a sudden gust of wind. “How about this, we go to my tent and we can talk.” Yang started walking regardless if the boy followed or not. But sure enough she heard his little footsteps a few seconds later. _Lucky he approached me and not some weirdo._ She thought.

Telling him to stay and look after Embla, Yang went inside and tied the tent shut. She was quick about getting dressed, not that she didn’t trust Embla to behave herself, but she didn’t want to make the boy anxious. Emerging in some commoner clothing, Yang smiled and walked to a log and sat down.

The boy joined her in silence and wondered what was going on before Yang lit the fire with magic. At least that’s what the boy would call it as Yang used less than a pinch of fire Dust to ignite the pile of wood that would act as he fire until bed time.

“Woah!” The boy gasped.

“Cool huh? Nobody else light a fire that easily?” Yang asked, just trying to get any information she could.

“No! Not unless they had a dragon. But they all died mother said.” He sounded disappointed at that, but Yang wasn’t so sure. Grimm were one thing, but a flying, fire breathing monster with scales like steel. Dragons didn’t sound quite as nice to Yang as they did to this boy.

“Maybe it’s a good thing. I don’t suppose you know of the dragons that lie at the bottom of this lake?” Yang asked with the boy nodding.

“There is one! Apparently the other managed to crawl out, but they all say it died lying with half its body still in the lake.” Again the boy sounded sad, but to Yang it meant that there was at least one still down there.

“What about the riders? Either of them found?” The boy had to think hard about this question, but as Yang set some fish to start cooking, he answered.

“Not that I’ve heard. The lake is too deep and dark.” Yang smiled as she heard that, perhaps there was a chance her goal was still somewhere at the bottom. If she could just find the dragon bones then she could stop searching so blindly. “Aren’t you scared the dragon will get you?” The boy asked.

“What?” Yang giggled and shook her head. “That was a long time ago right. And the dragon would have drowned by now.”

“Then it’s safe to swim?” He asked.

“So long as you know how to swim I would say its perfectly safe.” Yang confirmed for him.

“Then why do you keep going under the water? Did you drop something when you first got here?”

“If I tell you, you’ve got to keep it a secret ok?” The boy nodded and Yang rubbed his head. “I’m looking for treasure. I used to work at an inn and people always spoke of the Gods Eye and the Ruby Ford. Rhaegar’s rubies are somewhere in that river they said, just like there are two Targaryen skeletons, a dragon’s remains, and a Valyrian sword somewhere in the Gods Eye.” The look on the boy’s face was pure joy.

“And you’re looking for the sword?” Yang just nodded to his question. “Can I help?” He asked quickly causing Yang to laugh.

“You’ll have to ask your parents, but I’d prefer you didn’t. I don’t want your leg or something getting caught on whatever could be down there.” _Plus, having to watch over you would make this take even longer._ Yang thought.

“I’ll… I’ll ask if I can come and watch. Maybe I can make you lunch and play with your dog?” The boy looked hopeful and that simple request she could not turn down.

“That sounds fine, Embla needs someone to keep her company. She’s been getting restless with me diving in the lake every day.” She chuckled and patted the direwolf sitting next to her. “And it’s not a dog. It’s a direwolf. Still growing I believe.” Even on Remnant they had Direwolves, had being the key word. They died out many hundreds, thousands of years before Yang.

“No way! Father says all the direwolves are long dead. And even if they weren’t they prefer the North.” The boy was right for the most part, but Yang couldn’t spill how she had acquired such a friendly direwolf. If it was found that she had struck a Lord and rescued an animal that had been sentenced to death by the king himself…

“It’s true. Though I have no way of proving it. You’ll just have to take my word for it kid.” Yang said smiling. She checked the fish as Embla licked her lips. She, like Yang, was hungry and in need of a meal. She handed the first one to the boy and the second to Embla before grabbing one for herself. “Careful for bones kid, it’s been a while since I’ve practised first aid.”

“First aid?” The boy spoke with a full mouth. _Right… different words._

“Its, a practise that allows people to help others in a small way. Before healers or Maesters can get to them.” Yang explained.

“So… you’re a healer looking for a Valyrian sword?” The boy asked.

“No, I’m just nobody who is looking for something that will put me on the map.” _Other than my strength and aura._

The three finished their fish in silence with Yang feeding Embla a couple more. She had to fish more for the wolf than herself, even though she was burning through energy swimming and diving every day. But it was great training for her, she ached all over when she first started, but as the days blurred into weeks her body adjusted, sometimes she even though she looked stronger than before.

“What’s your name kid?” Yang finally asked.

“Gerrar. What’s yours?” _No last name?_

“Yang Xiao Long. The Xiao Long is technically one.” She informed the boy.

“Wow! So you come from a noble house? Do I call you a Lady?” Gerrar asked.

“Fuck no!” Yang answered before giggling and getting to her feet, stretching and yawning. It still wasn’t sundown but she was tired as usual. Swimming was always said to be one of the most tiring forms of exercise, and she wouldn’t allow herself a day off. “Anyway, how about you get going before its dark and come by tomorrow, so long as your parents allow you to.” She raised a warning finger; he needed their permission.

“Ok! I won’t need their permission for much longer. I’m almost ten!” Gerrar said and bounced to his feet and patted Embla who was content now that she was fed.

“Ten! Double digits. You’ll have to tell me when your birthday is. I might get you a present if I’m still around.” Yang informed him. It was clear he was just a common born boy, neither rich nor poor. He and his family got by, just like many others.

“What’s a birthday?” Gerrar finally asked.

“It’s the day you were born during the year. You call it a name day here, but from where I’m from its called a birthday. You celebrate both as you get a year older.” She smiled and patted him on the back. “Come on kid, get home so your mother isn’t worried sick.” Her thoughts turned to Ruby as she still worried about her dearest sister, she had acted partly as a mother figure too since Ruby was son young when they lost their mother. It was an act that Yang had never shaken and gave her a maternal nature of those she cared for, her team, the other members of RWBY.

“Ok. See you on the morrow lady!” Gerrar said as he started running back along the shore of the lake, his feet splashing in the shallows. Yang watched him until her was a hundred meters away before turning back towards the tent.

Her night was short, sleep taking her before the sun was fully set. Embla, her pet and sole friend curled up beside her above the blankets that covered Yang’s body. Her wolf senses would alert her to anyone or anything that came there way, but like all the other nights, they were left in peace and Yang got a full nights rest.

The days following were much of the same, waking and performing stretches, fighting patterns her father and others had taught her. Exercise be that bodyweight or moving heavy objects. There were no shortage of trees, boulders and rocks about the Gods Eye and Yang made use of them.

Embla would hunt sometimes, catching rabbits and even a deer once and Yang had to skin and cook. It took her a long while before she got the hang of it, but she still knew a teacher would be handy. Tips of the trade, technique, if she was even doing it correctly. She cut and hung it, but often threw it away as both she and Embla didn’t get around to eating it.

Fish was her main food source after all, and every day consisted of at least some fish meal. Since meeting Gerrar Yang had started making soups with the small boy providing bread and bowls. She was very grateful for this and cooked for him too and even trained him a little.

Having caught Yang training in the morning one time, Gerrar asked what she was doing and Yang went on to explain that where she came from, it was a type of way to physically improve oneself. So, Gerrar joined in and tried to keep up with the much practiced woman he’d met and called a Lady.

Swimming she did little of as it was mostly diving for a couple of minutes at a time, scouring the floor of the lake and feeling for what might lie under the mud. Turning over rocks and moving sunken, rotten logs, stirred up the mud making it impossible to search with her eyes, thus the majority of her searching was done blindly, her hands racking the lakebed for what she prayed was actually there.

The story was from over a century and a half ago, back when dragons ruled the Seven Kingdoms and a family known as the Targaryens sat on the Iron Throne. The people of Westeros and the historians who wrote about it, the minstrels that sung great songs about it, name the war, The Dance of Dragons. From what Yang learned it was a civil war that nearly ended the Targaryen bloodline and at first, she had no interest in it.

Yet people commented about her eyes, lilac was close to violet and some even whispered that she was a descendant from the dragonlords of old. Yang could only deny that she was, she knew her lineage was of a different world, any slight resemblance was pure coincidence and she had quickly grown ill of explaining that she wasn’t and let people believe what they wanted.

Golden haired and lilac eyes, she was close to the Targaryens yet completely different. This is why people told or sung to her about the dragonlords and their conquests of the past, The Dance of Dragons, being her reasoning for diving in the Gods Eye.

A pair of dragons and their riders fought above the Gods Eye and ended up falling into it. Caraxes is said to have had the strength to crawl onto the shore, but succumbed to its wounds and died shortly after, while the older dragon, Vhagar was found some years later with its rider still attached, minus his head. This story contradicted Gerrar’s story as he claimed there was still a dragon, its bones, remaining in the river. Yang didn’t care which was true, only that the sword had remained lost.

Yang was looking for this head using all that she had learned about the battle to determine where the most likely place the body of Daemon and the head of Aemond might be. It was said that one of the Targaryen Valyrian blades was lost that day, Dark Sister. This was Yang’s true goal, to find a sword that was like the one that had cut into her hand and left a faint scar there. She recalled how it had cut her as if her aura wasn’t even there. It was something she needed to find, only the depths of a giant lake stood between her and it, possibly.

Surfacing another time that she cared not to count, Yang looked over to the shore and Gerrar. He was sitting there with Embla, stroking her fur. The direwolf had put up with him ever since the boy came bounding over, she was the nicest of the pack after all. _I wonder what his parents are doing? Maybe I should ask to stay there for a night._ The thought of a soft bed made her body ach. Diving so much every day was wearing thin on Yang who was thinking about giving up within a fortnight if she found nothing.

Sure there had been a few bones, but she figured they had been from smaller animals that had fallen in over the years. They weren’t dragon sized as Vhagar had been taken from the depths, though it was possible parts of the beast had rotted off over the years it took to fetch the corpse.

“Alright Xiao Long, a few more and you can call it a day.” She told herself and dove back down. Her fingers scratched at the floor of the lake while she kept her eyes shut. Dirt and whatever else had filled the gaps beneath her nails, something she found disgusting but there was nothing to be done about it as day after day, they would fill with dirt.

Another breath, another dive, another resurface with empty hands. _Perhaps the singers were wrong. Maybe they all lied to me._ She thought as she took in another deep breath. The light faded the deeper she got and the dirt she’d stirred up earlier further clouded the bottom she searched. If she were to stumble across the blade, she feared it would cut her fingers off. She recalled the sharpness of the blade that Lord had. _Just be a hilt… the hilt is all I need._

Liquid and mud, partials swept aside in a race to search as much ground as possible before the need for air became too much to push aside. Rough rocks and the touch of something cold. The prickling of something that wouldn’t relent, pointed and wavy before curving into a slim cylindrical length. Bars blocked her hand from going further so she grabbed the length and lifted it.

Even in the water she felt the weight tip, there was more to whatever she found than just what she held in her hand. Moving herself about, she placed her feet on the bottom of the lake. Holding the object, she pushed off with force. Bubbles escaping her mouth as she released the last of her oxygen so she could gasp for more as she broke the surface, which is exactly what she did.

Clawing at the surface with her free hand, she raised her other, pushing what she’d found from the waters that had claimed it so long ago. A slender blade stretched out from a rusted hilt and grip. The steel had rippled patterns and Yang recognised it instantly. _Just like the man’s sword…. Valyrian._ Her mouth curled into a smile as she looked over the beautiful steel, still holding its edge despite being underwater.

But that wasn’t all that was there, Yang almost dropped it as she found someone looking back at her. The eye was blue yet the face was rather gaunt. Pale and haunting, she would never get the image of that skull from her mind. The sword had impaled the skull through an eye socket, leaving the gem in the other socket, deep and blue, staring at her, unblinking.

As she arrived back on land, wading through the water and towards the camp where both Gerrar and Embla had stirred, a voice came from a way off.

“Gerrar! Gerrar!” Came a feminine voice. _Crap, gotta get changed._ Yang thought, running up to the boy.

“Hang onto this for me will you.” She didn’t give him an option and raced to get changed. When she remerged she was faced with an angry looking woman and three armed men. The richer looking male of the three looked like Gerrar.

“How dare you show yourself like that in front of my son!” The woman started. _Ah crap._

“Hey, it’s only underwear, not like he hasn’t seen it before.” Yang smiled and winked at the boy but the mother chose to strike. Yang caught her by the wrist and gave her a sharp shove backwards, nothing much since she didn’t want to hurt whoever these people were.

“And the skull! You gave my boy a human skull!” The woman shirked.

“Ok… that was my bad. But I needed to put some clothing on, which would have offended you more?” Yang said with a nervous smile.

“Neither! Guards, arrest this woman and take her things for my own.” The woman ordered, but the men didn’t move.

“Go on, listen to my wife and you two can be the first to have a go at the blonde.” The man revealing himself as both husband and father said. But it was what he said not who he was that bothered Yang who quickly stepped back and raised her hands.

“Come on now, I don’t want any trouble.” She looked to the sword in the boy’s hand and spoke again directly to the father. “But, I want the sword I found and whatever the eye is from that skull. Then I will be gone.” A growl came from the trees beside the men as Embla made herself known to those threatening her new owner.

“A wolf…” The husband looked to Yang and drew his sword. “Kill them both, wolf skin can be sold for a fair price.”

Yang dodged the lunge of the first blade like she was playing with a child, but these men meant her harm and she knew it. Driving her fist into his face she completely levelled him, it was lucky she wasn’t wearing her gauntlets or fighting with her full strength.

The father charged her next, swinging more carefully than her former opponent who lay there writhing on the ground, blood pouring from his now broken and swelling nose. Yang’s movements were so practiced and fast, that she never once got close to being caught. _This world is full of weaklings after all_ She thought as she caught a wrist, placed her leg behind his right and pulled his hand back over his head, flipping and twisting him before he landed with a thump.

There was a scream of pain. It wasn’t from the father, but the man who had chosen to go against a direwolf by himself. Embla was the more passive and calmer of the litter, but she was still a direwolf.

Blood spurted from beneath the man’s mail, his sword already lay several meters from him, lost in the struggle before he was toppled. Small bits of white fur blew about the ground that he’d pulled from Embla while struggling and failing to free himself, but the screaming hadn’t stopped even when his shoulder was being gnawed on. Embla’s mouth became coated in red as she dragged the thrashing the man about.

There was a sudden burning sensation that had Yang stumbled forwards. It was accompanied by a wetness that tickled her back as liquid escaped her body. Turning, she found the wife, the mother of Gerrar, Valyrian steel sword in hand with a small portion of one edge coated red. It was the sword she found in the Gods Eye, taken from her son’s hands. Joy turned to fear as Yang realised that this woman had just tried to kill her, would have too if only she knew how to use a sword.

“Fucking bitch!” Yang screamed, charging the woman recklessly. The blade licked her left bicep, completely ignoring the aura that Yang shrouded herself in and biting into her pale skin. More red was drawn but Yang had the woman’s hands and pried the blade free.

“Giyana!” Roared the woman’s husband, but Yang was more than fed up with what had happened and spun away, Valyrian blade back in her hand as she caught sight of something horrid. The man plunging his blade into his wife. _No! You stupid…_

He had thrust as Yang moved and couldn’t stop himself. His blade sunk into her with a deafening squeal. She could see it on Giyana’s face, the shocked expression, the confusion, the fear. The man followed her down, howling at his misfortune. Yang felt no pity, attacked from behind and cut a second time, she knew that this man wouldn’t stop. These two fools had tried to take her and her things, then her life. _Better them… than me._

Snapping a twig as she stood behind him, she raised the blade, Dark Sister, the stories said it was a blade that had tasted much blood. The man turned, tears streaming down his face yet… a defiance, a deep anger with not even a hint of fear. Yang felt cold, from the look in his grey eyes or the blood cooling on her body she didn’t know. Bringing the blade down diagonally, she felt very little resistance as she cut through his chainmail.

He fell to the ground with blood swiftly pooling beneath him. Yang could only step away, step away and drop the sword onto the ground as her body held her in place. The screams of grown men had stopped, Embla killed the first man and chased the other off, Yang could still see him running far along the edge of the Gods Eye.

Gerrar’s pain was all that she could hear now, and it tore her to pieces. He had just seen both his mother and father slain, one was an accidental murder, but Yang had intentionally cut down his father.

“Gerrar.” She said in a whispered voice, stepping closer and getting nothing from him. “Gerrar.” She repeated, closing the gap and kneeling behind him. She could see the light from his father’s eyes had gone and the pool of blood, Gerrar had knelt in the blood, dirtying his knees. It was something Yang had never seen before.

“Gerrar… I’m sorry.” She reached out, touching his shoulder. _I have to make this right. I have to take care of…_

The look in his eyes told her everything. They were exact reflections of what she’d seen of the father’s before she ended his life in one simple cut. Vicious and beastly, unwavering in their emotions.

There was a flash of steel and a sudden jolt from Yang. He hand shot out and struck the boy square in the face. She hadn’t held back and had sent his body through the air. He landed with a thud, but Yang wasn’t concerned about young Gerrar anymore, she hadn’t thought it necessary to keep her aura up after the brawl and let it get to healing her wounds. _Fuck… what the hell is wrong with these people._ Her hand wrapped around the hilt of a blade with the steel hidden inside her torso.

Fighting to her feet, Yang only gave a glance to Gerrar who still lay there before grabbing the Valyrian blade, the eye and the skull along with whatever she could off the three adult bodies. A few coins and bits of paper, their weapons and armour too. _Everything… is worth something._

“Embla! Come on girl… time to go.” Yang said, putting a hand on the direwolf for support. _Find someone, I need someone who can take this thing out of me._ She recalled being told to leave a weapon inside and restrict its movement, but all she wanted to do was pull it out. She had to fight with herself to avoid pulling it out.

Yang didn’t know if she was lucky or not, but she and Embla came across a few horses, four to be exact. Looking down at the wolf she bared a pained smile and mounted one of them. She took the others, slowly tying them to her saddle on what would be the lead horse. All of her belongings were on her horse, coin purses and the Valyrian blade.

_Slow and steady, just have to make it to biggish town._ She told herself, one hand on the reins and the other holding cloth around the knife in her stomach. She had found what she wanted but had been forced to do things that would haunt her forever. It wasn’t the adults faces that would be burnt into her mind, but the boy’s. She had walked past his body near the water, finding his neck to have been snapped by the brute force she struck him with.

Now she had to live with her actions and the images forever. Her own pain gave her a grim expression as she rode, but at least the boy got to rest. He didn’t have to live without a father or mother. He would get to see them in the afterlife. That was the only thought that kept Yang from breaking down. _No more pain, no more worries. Find peace…fools._


	14. Blade for the Unborn

** Eddard **

Ned left the Small Council chambers with Robert’s voice booming that he was a traitor, a fool, too honourable. Ned had argued against killing the girl and her unborn child. Daenerys and the yet to be babe were on the other side of the world. The Narrow Sea and most of Essos lay between her and the Iron Throne which had been her father’s, yet Robert was still scared of an unborn child.

Almost all of the Small council had agreed too, Varys and Littlefinger, Robert’s younger brother Renly and the old Maester, Pycelle. The only one who agreed with Ned was the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Barristan Selmy, but even he couldn’t sway Robert away from the notion of ending what could or could not be a potential threat that was still an unborn child.

Selmy had been Kingsguard to two previous Targaryen Kings and was now Robert’s Lord Commander. He was the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms. Robert had sent his maester to heal Barristan’s injuries after the Battle of the Trident, showing a softer side even though some Lords suggested he kill Selmy then and there. However, now Robert wouldn’t listen, not to a man the kingdoms respected and knew well, nor to his best and oldest friend in Ned.

 _I need to have the girls pack their things._ He told himself as he strode through the Red Keep towards the Tower of the Hand. Staying in King’s Landing was a foolish notion now. He had given up the power that being the Hand of the King gave him, but there was also the matter of the old hand, Jon Arryn’s death. Ned had figured out someone had killed him and Varys only helped to strengthen his suspicion.

To top it all off, his wife had taken the imp, Tyrion Lannister, captive on her way back to Winterfell where she shouldn’t have left. A man of the Night’s Watch came and told him of this development and it was only a matter of time before others found out. The queen and her brother, a member of the Kingsguard, would not be happy when they found out their little and deformed brother was taken.

With only fifty household guards in the capital and without his badge of office to protect him, Eddard knew that he and more importantly, his daughters were in danger. Though he had still yet to finish his search for all of Robert’s bastards. The boy, the blacksmith apprentice Gendry was a spitting image of Robert. Black hair and blue eyes, strong too for his age.

It was on his walk that he came across a certain someone, someone that had been training the king ever since he returned to King’s Landing after fetching Ned to be his Hand. There in the hallway, walking towards him with her arms behind her back and humming a tune, was none other than the girl Nora.

“Hello Mr Stark!” She said energetically as she walked on by, not bowing, no nod of the head, just a loud and open greeting. _One not of this world. Perhaps she knows the Weiss girl in my home?_ He found himself wondering, distracted from the thoughts of young and unborn blood on his friend’s hands.

“Girl… Nora.” Eddard muttered, spinning on his heels and stepping towards her. He stood over a foot taller than the girl, but after witnessing her fight in the Melee and be crowned champion, he knew Robert wasn’t lying, she was strong.

“Yes?” Nora said as she looked up at him.

“His Grace… our friend Robert, has he told you what he wanted to discuss at the Small Council meeting?” Ned asked, beads of sweat running down his forehead. The fact that he openly challenged and defied his king and friend in front of the other council members still had him shaking.

“No.” Nora pouted. “He doesn’t tell me what goes on there. I’m his friend but it’s like he doesn’t trust me. Though I suppose running a kingdom must be terribly boring. I think that’s why he likes fighting with me so much.” The was an excited giggle before her voice came again. “Are you ok Mr Stark? You look hot, do you have a fever?”

Ned blinked a couple of times and raised his arm, wiping the droplets of sweat onto his sleeve. _Defying a king who is your friend… who thought it would be so… unsettling._ With his forehead clear for the moment, Ned shook his head.

“My health is fine; it is Robert you need to be concerned about.” He said sternly.

“Is he sick? Does he have a fever?” Nora asked sounding just a little worried.

“No, No Robert’s health is fine. It is his mind that you should be cautious of. I thought I knew the man, but he has changed. The man in that room is not the one I fondly remember.” Gone were the days where they were Jon Arryn’s wards. Gone were the games and Robert’s girls, perhaps not the girls as Robert still had a large appetite for them even now.

But the man he was when Lyanna was taken, Ned’s sister and Robert’s betrothed, was gone. In his place was a man who feared an unborn child of a young girl across a sea. _He sends assassins when he should go himself._ Ned felt sickened by the thought but gladdened that Nora didn’t know what the meeting was about.

“His mind is a perverted one. I see him with so many women that I feel bad for his wife… but she’s cold and treats me like I’m one of those women he has his way with.” She screwed her face up at that and visibly shivered.

“Cersei is right to feel that way in that regard. Robert dishonours her almost every night I hear, and many times at that.” His days of bedding women had grown even worse since he became king.

“She’s still a massive B word.” Nora giggled. “But other than the women and the drinking, I don’t think there is anything wrong with his mind. He is picking up his old attack patterns he told me. I’ll have him in fighting shape within the year.” Nora gave a toothy grin, confidence this girl lacked none.

“Perhaps, but it is not the queen to be worried about. Has Robert spoken to you about the Targaryens?” Ned questioned.

“Only that he overthrew them to get his crown. That they kidnapped your sister who he loved. I’m glad they were punished but…” Nora looked down at her feet. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Ned remained mostly expressionless, he had had over a decade to deal with his sister’s death and although she apologised, Nora wasn’t even on Westeros when it happened. Perhaps not even alive on whatever planet she came from.

“And what of the surviving Targaryens? Has he told you about them?” Ned pushed for another answer.

“There are two left alive right? Viss…. Something. And he has a younger sister. Robert said they fled after he took the throne. I hope they’re doing ok.” Nora said, unaware of the relief this brought Eddard.

“They are doing fine for now, the sister is even pregnant, or so Varys claims…”

“Varys knows a lot. I’d believe him if he said it. He’s helped me the most since I arrived here. Him, Robert, and his little brother Renly too.” Nora smiled; glad she had made such good friends in the capital. “I hope she gives birth to a healthy baby. I hope this world has a high rate of both mother and child surviving… it’s rather, undeveloped.”

Ned’s thought flew back to the tower, the red bed and a babies cries. A mother clinging to life while Ned’s mind tried to piece it all together. But that was years ago and in the moment Nora had revealed that she hoped for a healthy baby to be born. _A lie, or perhaps she is more honest than I believed?_

“Then you will be disappointed to hear what our dear friend has planned to do to the babe of Daenerys Targaryen.” Ned withheld the information to try and gauge the emotions of Nora. It was rather easy; she didn’t hide her thoughts well. She looked up at him, uneasy, her jaw was clenched too. She didn’t like the sound of what Ned might say. “He has ordered that the girl be killed, so that her son… if the babe survives or isn’t a girl, won’t lead armies against Robert or his children.”

Once Ned had finished talking there was nothing but silence. They were completely alone, not even the sound of footsteps, just their breathing to give them something listen to. Pale, Nora was always pale, but not as pale as Ned now witnessed.

“You’re lying. Robert wouldn’t do that. He’s not that cruel, he wouldn’t be scared… How old is…”

“Fourteen…. Perhaps fifteen. The girl is young, but even so that is the way of the world.” Ned dreaded the day Sansa would wed Prince Joffrey, she would give him a son and it would be soon. They were engaged and she was about that age.

“No… She’s so young, she couldn’t… wouldn’t…”

“You’re not from this world child. Thrones and crowns, power and wealth do strange things to men and women. Go speak to Robert, I could not convince him to change his mind, but perhaps you can.” Ned didn’t even have to wait as Nora walked of briskly, making her way not to the council chambers, but Robert and Cersei’s chambers.

 _Good luck girl, perhaps you can bring sense to my old friend._ Ned continued on his way to his own quarters, he had things to pack and his daughters to make ready for the long trip back to Winterfell.

* * *

** Nora **

Nora arrived in Robert’s room only to find him not there. Remembering where Eddard Stark had just come from she figured the king would still be at his meeting. She had questions, so many questions, but still she didn’t want to interrupt the meeting and be disrespectful to her friend, a king no less.

She paced around his room, admiring the paintings, jewellery, the sheets on the bed were so soft that Nora almost decided to lie down. But she couldn’t, nervous and growing impatient and angry she needed her answers. Hours passed before she heard the sound of someone getting closer, she knew that one of two people would walk through the door. _Please be Robert._ She prayed, not liking the idea of having to explain to Cersei why she was in the room.

Robert strolled through the door, red faced with a fiery look in his eyes, but the moment he spotted Nora, standing there in her conservative, full length dress, he paused. The dress was pink and finely made, both because she was known to be the king’s friend or at least someone who seen him often, and because Nora always spoke about needing some pink in her clothing.

“Why are you…” Robert started.

“Are you planning to kill a pregnant lady? A girl, younger than me?” Nora almost shouted as she stepped closer, her shoed feet kicking the bottom of her skirt out of the way.

“Stark. He told you didn’t he?” Robert growled.

“Answer the question, or do I need to start breaking things?” Nora responded with a lowered voice and stern, unyielding eyes. Robert wasn’t one to back down, he was King of the Iron Throne, yet Nora was strong, so very strong.

“Planning? I’m not planning. I gave the order and now it will be done.” Robert sounded done, his argument with Eddard and his friend’s resignation as the Hand of the King had seen him lose his temper.

“You will stop the plan immediately.” Nora said.

“And why would I do that?” Robert growled.

“Because it’s wrong! She’s barely a teen and you’re going to have her and her baby killed for absolutely no reason! It’s insane!” Nora yelled.

“No reason?! There are plenty of reasons to have them killed. If she were just a minor noble or some whore then I’d leave her be.”

“Where is she then? I’ll go to her and warn her that the king of the Seven Kingdoms is a coward. That she needs to hide until my stupid, fat friend, calms down and realises that what he is doing is murder!” Nora stomped on the ground, her own cheeks turning red to match Roberts.

“Stupid… Stupid! How is it stupid to end a war before it even begins? Is it stupid to spare thousands, tens of thousands of peoples lives simply by taking the life of a girl, half the world away?” Robert laid out his reasoning.

Nora took it all in and contemplated what her fat friend the king, was saying. _Thousands of people could die?_ Nora asked herself while her stern face slowly melted, giving way to a more dour expression.

“What do you mean by that? How can she or her baby be responsible for all those lives?” Nora asked, her voice calmer and more natural as she spoke. Robert returned the favour and lowered his voice too.

“I’m a King, the king that killed the girl’s older brother. Her father was killed by my wife’s brother, but it was my rebellion that allowed for that to happen.” Robert explained. “If she ever decides to set her sights on the Iron Throne, then she will first have to dispose of me. Understand?”

“You mean… she’d kill you?” Nora asked, voice wavering.

“That I do. Killing me and my children so that there was no claim to the throne by my blood… suppose that would mean my brothers might well be hunted and butchered too.” Robert walked over to his table, well stocked with wine and ale. He poured himself a horn and one for Nora too.

“So she wants the throne?” Nora asked.

“Who knows. We know that her brother, Viserys wants the throne. He married her to a Khal, a horselord, who apparently hasn’t lost a battle.” Robert’s eye met Nora’s, who was beginning to understand.

“And these Targaryens… brother and sister, either could challenge for your Throne?”

“That’s right, but the boy would have to first. Only males can inherit land and titles, a woman only if there are no male heirs left. However…” Robert downed his horn in one go, wine trickled through his thick black beard and onto his gut. “Should the girl gift birth to a boy, then he too will have a claim to the Iron Throne.”

“But… she’s just a kid, a kid that has a baby. What if the baby doesn’t even want the throne?” Nora suggested; Robert only laughed.

“Oh child, you weren’t born here, raised here. You haven’t even been in this world a year. Believe me when I say, should that child be a male, he will one day grow and strike out to try and claim his ancestral throne.” Robert sounded almost sad, but Nora wasn’t a dunce, unlike what Weiss would believe.

“You’re just sad that you would be an old man, and fat. You couldn’t fight him one way or the other.” Nora taunted, trying to see if the king would respond.

“Fat? Your training has barely changed me.”

“You eat and drink too much. Reduce those and you might be able to fit your breastplate again.” Nora took her horn from the table and drank greedily.

“You are wrong though Nora. Even as an old man I would still fight, if I live that long. Otherwise it will be Joffrey that will have to lead his people… Gods, I need another drink.” Robert grabbed for the jug of wine but found it missing. Nora had snatched it away and was walking towards the door. “Oy! That’s the king’s wine girl.”

“Nope! King is too fat. He needs to focus on his health or he definitely won’t make it past his fifties.” Nora sang happily, drinking straight from the jug herself. She had acquired quite the taste for the king’s wines, so much so that she often stole some from the kitchens, but never in large amounts. A mug here and there, never more than one a day, unless she was trying to annoy Robert.

Only Robert didn’t press anymore, the vocal outburst Nora expected was instead replaced by silence. _What?_ Nora wondered as she looked at the giant of a man, tall and wide, formerly one of the strongest men in Westeros stood as though frozen in place. His eyes were downcast with his beard hiding some of his expression.

“Robert?” Nora asked, stepping towards him.

“You might think it harsh… but I do this so the realm doesn’t bleed. The girl dies, the child in her belly will go with her. Then all I need to worry about is that miserable excuse for a man.” Robert growled, referring to Viserys.

Nora’s eye twitched as she let slip the jug. It shattered at her feet, wasting the wine and wetting floor, shoes and dress alike. Not that the bomber from Remnant cared, her friend was still going to kill an innocent girl and her baby. It was something that Nora wouldn’t allow.

Marching right up to the king and looking him dead in the eyes, Nora clenched her fist. It was sudden and made Robert’s eyes bulge as her fist sunk into his fat gut causing him to stumble. Gasping for air and waving his arms to steady himself, Robert roared in anger.

His face had turned red, his eyes screamed hate, and his arm wound back preparing. Nora didn’t move, surprised that Robert hadn’t fallen over from her strike. _Perhaps he is stronger than I give him credit?_ She wondered as his large fist struck her on the jawline, snapping her head to the side and causing her to stagger.

But she did not fall, did not wave her arms around for balance, oh no. Nora just turned back to Robert, looking up at the fat king, the man who had given the order to kill a child with an unborn baby. There was no regret in her eyes, not for what she was about to do. Just sadness, shock, but mostly sorrow, as the man she had come to admire in this new world was just a coward, a murderer.

With a quick combo she had Robert bending far enough over to deliver her punch. The sound echoed around the room as her fist connected beneath his chin, causing him to reel backwards. The king fell onto his arse and was lucky enough that his head hit the soft bed on the way down. Nora grit her teeth over the sound she’d heard. Robert’s teeth crunching together under the force of the punch, even though she was furious with his decision, she still felt guilty for striking him.

Nora and Robert just stared at one another, this time the ginger was the one towering over her fallen opponent who was clutching his chin, the anger still simmering beneath those big blue eyes. _What do I do now? I can’t stay here… not with Robert hating me… not while I know he means to murder a kid._

Though her thoughts were interrupted as the sound of armoured boots on stonework made their way to the pair’s ears. Nora knew that the situation was bad, her standing over the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms could mean that she would be hunted, unless Robert told them it was an accident, or he fell.

“Nora! Hand, now.” Robert bellowed and Nora was only too pleased to help haul him to his feet. “We’ll speak more in a moment.” He growled, waiting for the door to be knocked on.

“Your Grace! Urgent news.” Came the voice.

“Enter.” Robert said and went to grab another horn of wine only to remember that Nora had dropped and broken the jug. A knight of the Kingsguard entered, Arys Oakheart.

“Your Grace?” The knight said as he laid his eyes upon the wine, pooled on the floor of the royal bedroom and then up to Nora. “I apologise, Your Grace….”

“Out with it man! Urgent you said.” With a bow, Ayrs then spoke.

“The Lord… former Lord Hand, he has been attacked. The Kingslayer’s doing. He has been moved to his bed and…” But Robert would hear no more of it and set off, pushing Arys aside. Nora trotted along behind with Arys bringing up the rear. _Kingslayer… Jaime Lannister. And Eddard gave up being the Hand already?_ Nora wondered as she followed Robert. Guards in Lannister and Baratheon armour lined the halls leading to the Tower of the Hand. _I should have brought my hammer._


	15. Rosepetal Reaper

** Ruby **

Ruby had been a guest of House Arryn for many moons now. Her first confusion of where she was had been eroded down until she understood something that had claimed many nights rest from her. She was in the Vale, just not her Vale. She wasn’t anywhere near patch and the maps she looked at held no resemblance to Remnant in any way. The maps were always incomplete too, something that wasn’t a fact of Remnant.

So she studied, a little, enough to learn the few powerful houses and the names of several people within the castle they called the Eyrie. An impressive castle that stood atop the Mountains of the Moon, thousands of feet above the valley floor somewhere far below. At times a thick fog would make the ground disappear, Ruby always hated those days.

It was cold to, so very cold. Even her warm red cloak that she wrapped around herself wasn’t enough some days. So she was gifted a new cloak, heavy of fur and finely made by Lysa, the widow of the former Lord and Warden of the East, Jon Arryn.

The former Lord did leave a son behind though, a small and thin boy with terribly splotchy pale skin. His eyes were oddly big and prone to weep as Ruby discovered; The boy was also terribly selfish and childish for his age, of which he was nine years old.

Ruby had been around the Lady Lysa a lot and had been constantly questioned. She didn’t know why she was, but the woman seemed unstable. She cautioned everything and everyone, even the suitors that had come to ask for her hand were wary of her, but the temptation and allure of the power they could get from marrying the widow of the former Warden of the East was apparently too much to pass up.

Then there was the matter of Robert, her son. A touched mother in Lysa still hadn’t weaned the boy of nine from her breast which Ruby found disturbing at the best of times. She’d seen it enough to grow accustomed to it and had learned the hard way not to suggest the woman to stop breast feeding. One telling off, threats and screams from both mother and son was enough to make Ruby back away. Thankfully she wasn’t the only one who thought that way, yet the knights and nobles of the Vale were sworn to Robert Arryn, Jon’s heir and future Warden of the East.

No such restriction barred Ruby though who although asked, refused to bend the knee to a child, sickly and weak looking. She just wanted to go home, something that Lady Lysa had forbid since she still called her a southern spy.

So when the chance came for Ruby to get away from the Eyrie, she took it without hesitation. She didn’t bother taking a horse, horses couldn’t make up to the Eyrie after all. Using her semblance she was out of a window and descending the mountain in a flurry of roses, many of which were left behind, a red leafed trail that no one would be able to keep up with.

Ruby passed through the three waycastles on her decent. Their names on the way down were Sky, Snow and finally Stone, the lowest of the three which made an assault on the Eyrie near impossible, by foot at least. Ruby had heard the stories of how the Kings of the Vale lost their crown, a dragon and its rider had simply flown up and from that point, the vale became one of the regions under Targaryen control.

Stone was the largest of the three with a massive iron gate, stables and even a yard. The walls were topped with iron spikes and two large towers rose above the keep. The trail to Stone from below was one surrounded by forest, perfect for an ambush.

The trial upwards was even steeper to Snow and more so to Sky above that. Snow was less impressive, a stone tower with a timber keep and a wall of rock, stacked rock protected a small stable.

Finally there was Sky, the highest of the waycastles and instead of timber and towers, it was carved into the mountain to provide housing for those who wished to stay the night instead of risking a night climb to the Eyrie.

Ruby zipped by each of these waycastles without a care for what they might report. She would be noted as missing, but there was no way Lysa could tell she had gone, not for hours at least.

Bursting into a clump of petals, Ruby darted from one distance rock to another. She had been getting a lot of practice in with her semblance and had much better control over it than before, yet she still hadn’t fought with anyone, not seriously at least.

For Ruby the decent took no time at all, yet all those who went by foot would take hours, overnight even. But Ruby was special, she had gifts from another world and was using them effectively to flee from the mountain top castle. She wanted to see what was past the Gates of the Moon and this so-called Bloody gate. And see past them she did, passing peasants and knights, lords and ladies with flash of red, a few petals left behind to show that she had in fact been there for the briefest of moments.

Even after she’d passed the Bloody Gate, Ruby didn’t slow. Her semblance tired her out, but she had heard of what lay beyond the Bloody Gate. The Eastern Road also known as the High Road held many dangers. Hill clans, shadowcats were the major threats. _I’ve faced worse, Beowolves are bigger than what Mrs Arryn told me about the shadowcats._ Ruby didn’t worry about the clans either, she had an aura, speed, and something even greater, a gun.

Ruby found herself a resting spot as she tired, using her semblance for such a long time had exhausted her. She picked a tree and lay down to rest, thinking about her family, her team, her friends back on Remnant. _I wish I could see them again. Yang would know what to do._ She thought nearing her goal of taking a nap before the soft sound of voices made her sit up suddenly.

Checking around her and grabbing Crescent Rose, Ruby was on her feet and prepared to fight. Clansmen and shadowcats was what she thought it could be, but as she walked to the edge of her cliff, she spotted not shadowcats, but people riding horses. _Lady Lysa said they didn’t ride horses… that they rode donkeys._ Ruby thought as she figured that the few people riding were in fact clansmen from the Vale.

“They don’t look like clansmen.” Ruby told herself as she viewed them through the scope of her sniper-scythe. An older lady, much like the appearance of Lysa with her auburn hair. A stout man, broad, with large white whiskers and a receding hairline was by her side, sagging forwards in his saddle. _He’s bleeding!_ Ruby spotted through the scope. _They’ve been attacked… and they’re using the road._

There were also others with them, all of whom looked worse for wear from Ruby’s view. Bloodied, but there was a short one too, the height of a child yet with golden hair and his face looked… older. Ruby was content with watching them make their way past and greeting them when they eventually made the Bloody Gate, but it was not to be.

As the party, all on horseback made a stop in a small opening in the road, high ridges around them, Ruby spotted movement. Lining up her sights, she found a man wearing a boned helmet and scraggy looking clothing, poor and weathered, tattered and mended many times with different furs old and new. _An ambush._ She realised but couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger.

A stone was the first to strike and knock down a man sharpening his blade. Ruby watch through the lens of her scope as more men poured down from steep slopes in the cliffs as if it were child’s play. Shouting sounded, echoed, followed by the odd scream and the sound of frightened horses. Steel rasped again steel and men fell from both sides.

 _You’re a huntress in training… you’re going to defend people… again the Grimm… against… bad people._ Ruby told herself, trying to encourage herself enough to pull that trigger, enough to defend the few against the many. But she didn’t know who the good people were, the ones who ambushed might have reason, but the ones riding slowly along the rode might have been attacked unprovoked. _Dad… Yang._ A tear slipped down her left cheek as she breathed out, squeezing the trigger once.

A sound like thunder rolled throughout the rolling hills and mountains of the Vale like nothing the people had ever heard. And then a man slumped to the ground, blood beginning to pool under his corpse. His soul had gone, Ruby was sure of that, but even then the sound hadn’t stopped the fighting, just momentarily paused it.

With shaking hands and water filled eyes, looking through the scope was difficult, impossible even for the young girl who just claimed her first life. _I want to defend people… not hurt them._ She whimpered, standing and shooting forwards as a blur of red flowers.

It didn’t take long for Ruby to close the gap between herself and the fight, and as she made it close enough she stopped using her semblance and flew through the air with the momentum from it. Crescent Rose snapped into its scythe form just in time for Ruby to pull it into and through a clansmen.

The blade licked through the ma with little resistance, breaking him in two and saving the older woman Ruby had seen earlier. Her stomach churned as she heard two rather distinct sounds as the man’s legs and then torso dropped to the stony ground.

Ruby couldn’t spare a look at the woman, didn’t want to. She had just claimed another life and felt she would be claiming more as another clansmen closed in on her. _I’m sorry._ She cried out, parrying the blow with ease and taking the man’s arm. It was a mistake on Ruby’s part as the look of terror she received, coupled with the cries of agony and blood splatter on the clothing gifted to her from Lysa made her gag.

Being left open and vulnerable as she dry heaved in the middle of battle, she was struck from the side and lost hold of her beloved scythe. She looked up from being sprawled on her back, defenceless. But even then she knew she couldn’t be hurt; this man had hit her with a blade and instead of spilling blood he had unknowingly just done a small about of damage to her aura.

“Die bitch!” The man roared, but as the crude looking as came racing down, Ruby was gone in a whirlwind of petals. Grabbing onto her scythe once more, Ruby stood behind the man, waiting, praying that he would see the folly in trying to attack her again. _I don’t want to kill you._

“Witch!” The man cried, mouthful of missing teeth and wrinkled skin, this man was older than he seemed. He charged, but only made it a step before his throat was opening from behind.

The man’s eyes bulged as the life left his dying body, his hands grasped at his throat hopelessly. But more blood managed to fight its way onto Ruby who promptly threw up her breakfast from that morning as she fell to her knees.

Crescent Rose fell to the ground, clattering onto the many smaller rocks. Groans of pain sounded all around her and one by one grew silent. Silent as the survivors finished off those that were suffering. Ruby herself hadn’t been injured, but she felt disgusted and changed. Grimm didn’t bleed, they died and began to smoulder away. They had black smoke rise from them and it didn’t dirty clothing or weapons, not like the blood that clung to the scythe’s razor edge, dripping onto the dirt.

The crunching of footsteps Forced Ruby to move, shuffle away before darting into the side of a cliff face. She fell out of her semblance and landed on her back, rose petals falling all around and once more the gravel grated as someone made their way towards her.

“Calm child. I won’t hurt you.” Came the voice of a woman, the only woman Ruby had spotted who had the same coloured hair as Lysa though.

“I killed a man… men.” Her teeth chattered as Ruby began feeling cold, terribly cold. The warm blood had already started cooling on her clothing, staining spots of red that she would never get out.

“You saved me. That’s what you did, and I thank you for it.” The woman said, crouching next to Ruby who was whimpering and now holding her knees.

The short man and the surviving sellsword were examining the battle scene before they found what they really wanted. Ruby’s scythe, a weapon that was similar to a normal crop harvester and used by the clansmen and wildlings, but so very different at the same time. Coloured red, black and steel, the scythe was large, too large and heavy to be used for cutting grass of crops, too large for such a small girl to carry yet… They had all seen the whimpering girl cut a man in two and disarm another.

Silver eyes met a mismatched set of green and black. _He’s not a kid… he’s just short._ Ruby realised and looked to her scythe in the hands of the sellsword. The woman turned and clenched her jaw before commanding the two.

“Give the girl back her… weapon. And prepare your horses, we leave as soon as we are able.” The woman said.

The dwarf and sellsword came close, resting the scythe against the side of the cliff only for Ruby to reach out and snatch it. Within seconds it was folding itself back into its compact transport state, bewildering those that saw, and greatly interesting the dwarf.

“I’m Catelyn. What do they call you little one?” Ruby looked up into her blue eyes, so similar to Lysa’s.

“R-Ruby Rose.” Came her hoarse response.

“Do you want to come with us? We’re heading to the Eyrie to see my sister. I have very important business there.” Catelyn told Ruby.

“Who… Who is your sister?” Ruby asked.

“Her name is Lysa, have you heard of her?” Catelyn questioned gently, offering Ruby a hand up. _I knew she looked similar._ Ruby thought as she reached for the offered assistance.

“Yes.” She said simply, not wanting to speak much. But as she realised that meant going all the way back up past the Bloody Gate and the three waycastles, she grumbled. Worn out from using her semblance to travel a great distance and then fighting, killing people. Ruby just couldn’t she cope; couldn’t bring herself to travel by her own will. “Can I ride with you?”

“After you saved me, it is the least I can do.” Catelyn responded sweetly, guiding Ruby to her horse. Crescent Rose was stashed on her back, but as Catelyn mounted behind her it felt uncomfortable.

Moving the weapon into her arms, cradling it closely, Ruby leaned back as the woman kicked the horse urging it onwards. Time passed by without Ruby even feeling the change in the temperature or noticing the surroundings. Her mind was stuck, her thoughts circling around what she had done.

Three lives she had taken, with a fourth being taken while he was attempting to attack her once more. She could see it all playing over, the blood splattering, spraying from newly opened wounds. Lethal or not the people had been finished off by the party that was ambushed, even the man who lost his arm.

Even Catelyn’s voice couldn’t rouse the girl from her brooding, it reminded the mother of five about a certain boy that grew up with her eldest. _I killed… humans. Why were they fighting… why couldn’t they talk it through?_ She wondered. Ruby had studied a little on the great war on Remnant that happen almost a century ago, and that very war is what she started thinking about.

That war was the greatest in Remnants recorded history and seen humans tearing each other apart for a decade. Faunus and Human died by the thousands over the countless battles. _Perhaps people just can’t help but… kill._ Her uncle, Qrow Branwen, had told Ruby and her sister Yang about being a huntress. Hunters were to fight against Grimm, but some hunters turned bad and from time to time, they had to be dealt with. So even Ruby’s dream of becoming one of these hunters was shrouded in danger with a certainty of death. Be it hers or her opponents, human, Faunus or Grimm, the decision was hers to fight, or die.

“The Bloody Gate.” Someone had said, stirring Ruby who felt groggy as she looked around. Along the way they apparently picked up some extra men, Vale Knights, armed and on horseback, but she could see that they had already arrived at the Bloody Gate.

Another knight rode out to meet the approaching party, alone too. His armour was grey, but his cloak was coloured red and blue, with a shiny black fish wrought in gold and obsidian pinning it against his shoulder.

“You are far from home, little Cat.” The knight said.

“And you, Uncle.” Catelyn answered from behind Ruby who was still sharing the same horse. _How long was I out for?_ She wondered as the uncle and niece shared their greetings.

“And who is this one?” The knight asked.

“Ruby Rose. Apparently she know my sister. How is this so?” Catelyn asked.

“Rose… I’ve heard whispers about Lysa having a strange guest up there. But this small girl, how did she get past?” Ruby grew pale and squeamish as the man eyed her cautiously.

“It does not matter. She helped me get here, saved my life and doubtlessly the others too. Took down two full grown clansmen herself.” Catelyn’s claim caused the old knight to raise an eyebrow.

“A mouse like her. She doesn’t look well enough to kill anyone.”

“Stopped after we had won… Hasn’t shown much life since then.” Catelyn said as she stroked Ruby’s black hair, her red tips slipping through Catelyn’s finger allowing her hair to rest once more.

“First time perhaps, poor child. We’ll have her brought back up to the Eyrie with you. She can tell us how she… left, once the time has passed.” His next sentence was to Ruby directly. “The first time is hard girl. It changes you, but don’t let it break you.” He gave her a warm smile, something that brought Ruby to silent tears.

Bryden Tully was the knight’s name, and he joined what few of Catelyn’s party started to ascend to the Eyrie that day. Ruby remained close to Catelyn at all times, but always caught the dwarf looking her way. He made her feel uncomfortable, dirty. _What does he want?_ She wanted to know, but he was never close enough for her to whisper and always flanked by the sellsword. She did come to know their names though, Bronn was the sellsword, Tyrion was the dwarf.

* * *

**The first Ruby chapter! Many of you have been asking for it so ask no more. Hope everyone enjoyed it.** **Also, that latest chapter was… interesting. Please leave a review if you enjoyed the chapter** **😊**


	16. River Nightmares

** Yang **

Yang hadn’t needed to ride long before she was approached by armoured horsemen. Two of them, both of which looked at her, a woman, beautiful and fair, but with red stained clothing both front and back. Her blood had trickled from the cut on her arm all the way to the reins of the horse. Even the saddle hadn’t been spared a new colour.

Seeing her need for immediate help, and despite the wolf at her side, the two men took her to their Lord, one Lymond Goodbrook. Once there, Yang was assisted off her horse and helped inside by one of the men while others, stable boys and guards scrambled around and penned the horses. Yang gave a soft warning, that if any of her equipment went missing then she would take more. Though with the small dagger still imbedded in her abdomen and her weakened state, she wasn’t much threat.

She was taken into the Lord’s hall where instead of being questioned, she was sent to rest and the maester was summoned to heal her wounds. There was but one thing that Yang desired to hold onto, the ancient sword she saved from the depths of the Gods Eye, Dark Sister. The blade was still in perfect condition, but the hilt was rusted and in need of replacing.

She was allowed to keep it, or the maester was, until a time where Yang was well enough to take it once more. A woman with a Valyrian blade was of great curiosity to Lymond, and he quickly planned a trip to Riverrun with Yang being included in his company.

Thanks to the skills of the maester and Yang’s aura, her wounds began to heal quickly, surprising and inspiring curiosity in the maester. Yang owed him and explained where she was from, even though it might have sounded completely mad thanks to the medicine she had been given for the pain. But not two days since her arrival at the small castle of Lord Lymond, she was sent along with him and some of his household guards. Their destination Yang was informed was his liege lord’s holding, the capital of the Riverlands, Riverrun, home of House Tully.

Yang had heard of them and from the map she had, knew she had spent all of her time within the region that was the Riverlands. Yang spoke when spoken to along the road, the horse she rode was the best of the four she had acquired, after she was attacked. Embla ran alongside her, scaring the other horse and making Yang struggle with her own from time to time. She was a loyal animal, one that she had saved and befriended.

They made good time and made a stop at Stone Hedge, the seat of House Bracken, another of the families that was sworn to House Tully. Their sigil is a red stallion on a golden escutcheon on brown. It was far more impressive than the wavy blue bend on a golden field that was the Goodbrook’s sigil. Though neither of these mattered much to Yang who wasn’t quite herself.

Her wounds were healing, and quickly in comparison to those of Westeros, but her mind was troubled, always she thought of the attack. Not an hour went by where the entire event was not played over in her mind.

The burning on her back from being slashed with the very sword that now rested inside a scabbard given to her by Lord Lymond. The screaming of a man who was mauled to death by Embla and the patches of fur that blew across the ground. The slaying of a wife by her husband and then Yang’s own butchery. Her arm quivered each time she relived the strike she delivered, the one that killed a man, a father, a fool.

Yet these weren’t the things that haunted her the most, no there was something much darker. The boy who stabbed her was killed, accidently perhaps, but Yang had still taken the life of an innocent child, if he could be called as such. _He had a future; he had his whole life._ She thought as her blood ran cold and her skin paled.

Lord Janos Bracken joined Yang and Lord Lymond on their journey to Riverrun, sending a raven ahead to let their liege lord. With sixty mounted men, excluding the two Lords and Yang, they made for Riverrun with haste. She didn’t know why they were going, but she didn’t feel like fighting, fearing that she may take another life. These were humans, Grimm weren’t a part of her world anymore.

When Riverrun came into view, the sun was setting. But Yang could still make out the castle, no where near as large as Harrenhal, but that place was said to be cursed and it was crumbling. Riverrun itself is a three-sided castle and from where she was it looked to be sitting where two rivers met. Tumblestone and the Red Fork. It was a strong castle and easily defendable, with the final face of the castle being made with the ability to open sluice gates and fill a wide moat, cutting it off completely from the land.

The sound of hooves rattled the drawbridge as the soft trickle of the rivers surrounded the party that entered Riverrun as welcome guests. Yang didn’t feel like talking though, but she was being housed by a great lord, Lord Paramount of the Trident, Lord Hoster Tully. Though it was his son and heir that welcomed them all into the hall.

“Lord Jonos, Lord Lymond. A raven tells me that you have come with a curious individual.” His deep blue eyes flicked to Yang who only stared back at him with her bright lilac. “I had no idea you were bringing a woman before me.”

“She came upon my lands, Ser. Wounded and in need of aid. I had my maester treat her, yet she has recovered quicker than anyone I have seen.” Lord Lymond said.

“Injured?” Emdure Tully said looking suddenly concerned. “This was done in the Riverlands?” He asked.

“By the Gods Eye.” Yang told him quietly. She was curious about these men, the last had attacked her when she found Dark Sister, but even as Lord Lymond had her at the weakest she’d been since arriving in Westeros, he did not seek to harm her.

“Then I will order some of my men to find whoever harmed you and…”

“They’re dead… all save one guard and his broken nose.” Yang said as she cut him off. There wasn’t any joy in her words, no emotion save for a distant and cold look.

“Your injuries… You are healing, Lord Lymond’s maester was able to assist?” Edmure asked, more cautious of her now.

“They’re fine. They didn’t fester but the pain is still here.” She held a hand to her abdomen where the boy Gerrar had slipped the dagger into her.

“She is stronger than she appears, Ser Edmure. Stabbed with a dagger and slashed across her back with that very sword.” Lymond said, pointing to the sword that hung from Yang’s hip. _So this is about the sword. Is Valyrian steel really that important?_ She wondered as Edmure looked down.

“The hilt is rusted, what is so important about it?” Edmure said dismissively.

“Ser…” Began Lymond.

“Lord Lymond has told me of it properties and its… value. Tell me, does House Tully, the Paramounts of the Riverlands have a Valyrian sword?” Lord Jonos questioned with a smile. Edmure said not a word but stepped closer to Yang and looked her in the eyes and then down at the hilt.

“Valyrian steel? Are you certain?” He asked, not to Yang but his Lords.

“Yes. I have seen it with my own eyes though… I do not believe her story.” Lord Lymond said.

“It’s Valyrian.” Yang stated; she knew other steel couldn’t cut through her aura like these ones. “And my story is true. Found it in the Gods Eye.”

“The Gods Eye?” Edmure looked to his lords and shook his head. “Tales, rumours. That sword has been lost for a hundred years.” He turned his back dismissively and made for the chair at the end of the hall. “The hour grows late; I will give you food and wine and then turn in for the night. You are safe here at Riverrun, Lady Yang.”

“And what of my direwolf? Embla can stay in whatever chambers you give me. She is my best and loyalist friend.” Yang spoke out. _I won’t be parted from her. Not with all these strangers around._

“A direwolf? You’re sure she isn’t a Stark? Perhaps I should write to my eldest sister about this.” Edmure spoke his thoughts. “Very well, I will grant your… pet, permission in the castle. But if anyone comes to harm.” His eyes turned hard and Yang knew what he meant. Any harm and the direwolf was dead and Yang would be held responsible.

“Thank you, Ser.” Yang said with a small bow, enough so that her stomach wouldn’t hurt.

The feast the acting Lord of Riverrun provided was more than Yang had expected. It outshone the food that her old boss Masha had provided at the Inn at the Crossroads by many fold, though the main food for that nights feast was fish. _Truly, a meal fit for their banner._ Yang couldn’t help herself but think as she smiled and dug into the meal.

Fish had been her main source of food for the better part of a month now, having caught and cooked them from the Gods eye and now being served them in the great hall of Riverrun, Yang felt as though everything was going to turn about. But just as she started to feel better, even smile, she was reminded of her wrong doings. The boy Gerrar whom she had slain with powerful punch.

Across the table Lord Jonos snapped a fish bone, before eating the steaming flesh. Yang felt herself growing ill and turned her gaze elsewhere only to find Embla with a fish in her mouth. The sound of crackling bones made her shiver, even Embla had no concern over what Yang had done, no consideration was given by any of the three Lords either. But Yang, her mind screamed at her, guilt filled her more than the food ever could. She stood from the table with the wooden chair legs screeching on the stone floor.

“Excuse me… I am not feeling well.” She said.

“Do you want me to send the maester?” Edmure asked, as he held fish bones in her finger, tiny little things. Yang knew they made little sound, but every time she heard one they seemed to be getting louder.

“No… Thank you though. I just need to rest.” Yang gave a small bow and left, whistling from the hall as she called for Embla to follow.

She didn’t get much rest that night, her dreams were plagued with images of the undead. The mother with her dress, bloodied and holey. The father, his shoulder hanging with the skin opened and insides leaking, trying to pull it back in place. Then there was the man Embla killed, shoulder and neck, gnawed and mess. Holes in his neck and blood all over the ground. He sat up trying to speak, only for the blood to start flowing from the puncture wounds.

Stepping backwards, Yang felt something and quickly spun. She raised her arms in defence, but her bracelets weren’t on her wrists anymore. She couldn’t defend herself even if she wanted to as the boy looked up at her with his head twisted and dangling, neck broken.

 _“Why did you do it?”_ Gerrar asked, his voice just a whimper as Yang tried to run. Through the forest and away from the carnage. She slipped as she rounded a tree, Gerrar was already there and now that she was on the ground his eyes darted down.

 _“It hurts. Why does it hurt?”_ The boy asked, grabbing for his head and lifting, pushing it back into place. _Please don’t._ Yang tried to plead, but her voice remained in her throat as Gerrar’s bones popped and tendons snapped his head into place. Yang trembled and crawled away, staggering to her feet and bursting into a sprint.

 _“I’m coming for you. You can’t get away.”_ Gerrar’s voice echoed through the forest as she tried to break for the water. _Horses, they had horses._

 _“Murderer.”_ Came the father’s voice from her left.

 _“Thief.”_ Came the mother’s tone.

Then there was a gurgling as the man Embla ended shuffled towards her, trapping her in triangle much like Riverrun.

 _“Stop! I didn’t mean to. You attacked me!”_ Yang screamed at them, water pouring from her eyes. They weren’t listening, just ranting and repeating. Murderer, thief, harlot, murderer. Blocking her ears Yang turned to run, but in that moment Gerrar stood behind her.

 _“Got you.”_ He said in a soft voice, a pain pierced her abdomen and she shrieked.

The air was cold and the room dark as Yang sat up from her dream, her nightmare. The bed was wet and her hair a mess amidst the cloak of night. Her core ached from her sudden rise. Clutching the wound with one hand she felt the dampness and feared the worst only to touch herself a little more and find that it wasn’t blood, but sweat, and tears.

Touching her cheeks she could feel the tracks they’d left, even now they dripped from her chin. Her mouth tasted their salt and she whimpered. Embla was quick to join her side, sitting on the bed next to her.

“Thank you.” Yang rasped as she hugged the direwolf tightly, enough to cause the animal to squeak. “It was just a dream… just a dream girl.” Her hands felt her fine coat and pulled her down as she lay back.

Yang kept Embla there on top of the sheets, though she moved from the spot where she had sweated a river thanks to her dream. It was a large bed, big enough for her and Embla plus another. The wolf rested herself over Yang’s ribs yet not close to the wound. Yang just stroked her neck until sleep once again took her.

She didn’t wake again that night, didn’t dream again or have another nightmare. With Embla sitting guard, Yang’s mind rested easy. As dawn did finally break, the young woman rose only because the there was a knocking at the door.

“Who… What?” Yang called grumpily.

“It is Maester Vyman. I have come to wake you and check on your wounds.” Came his old and tired voice. _I don’t need any more checking. But they did let me stay here._

“Come in.” She called, slowly moving up so she was sitting. In her simple sleepwear, provided by her gracious host, Yang waited.

The maester looked her injuries over, always wary of the direwolf that was more like a dog than savage beast. He gave her what she already knew, her wounds were healing, quickly, the main one that Gerrar caused was the worse and slowest healing. Even her aura had trouble with the deeper wound, but she still healed many times faster than the average Westerosi.

Yang chose to eat breakfast alone that morning, soup and bread, a mug of wine too. She was out on one of the battlements of the castle walls, looking out over the Tumblestone river when she heard footsteps. Embla didn’t growl as Edmure Tully approached.

“Lady Yang, you were missed this morning. Did you not wish to break your fast with the Knight that is hosting you?” Edmure sounded a little hurt, Yang had unknowingly dishonoured the man after all. She was his guest and had been informed by the maester that she was expected.

“Apologies, Ser Edmure. I simply didn’t wish to be around anyone.” Yang responded gently, still not looking his way.

“Lord Lymond has told me about you. What you told his maester.” Edmure said as he approached the side of Yang that was opposite the direwolf that sat near her. “What you told the maester, what Lymond passed on to me, you sound like a mad woman.” He admitted.

“And you would risk standing here with a mad woman? One with a Valyrian blade?” Yang asked, shifting her head so she could meet Edmure’s gaze.

“A mad woman I think you are not. Though a liar and beautiful on the other hand.” Edmure’s hand made for Yang’s who didn’t move at all. Edmure smile and lifted her hand only for Yang to slip her hand from his gentle grasp.

“You men are all the same. All you want is a girl with a big ass and bigger tits. That what you want, Ser Edmure? Don’t lie now, I seen you stealing looks at the dinner table last night.” Yang had straightened herself as she spoke and stepped closer, her calm and tempered emotions beginning to crack.

“Now now, you should take it as a compliment. I…”

“Compliment? From you? Because you’re a Lord or a knight, some stupid Ser?” Yang huffed and turned back to the leaning on a crenel overlooking the river. “I’m not a Lady, I have nothing to offer you and want nothing you offer. Men of this world are ruled by lust and greed; I’ve made a fair amount gold of taking advantage of that.”

Beside her Edmure had gone pink cheeked as Yang had spoken to him in such a disrespectful manner. Who was she to question him? A whore that was attacked, given shelter, fed, attended to by not one but two different maesters. If she owed him anything Emdure would certainly be taking it.

“I killed two people when I took my injuries.” Yang said softly. _Why am I even telling him?_ She wondered with a sad smile.

“You? You killed two people?” Edmure asked as her previous disrespect and his anger, was momentarily overlooked because of what she had just revealed.

“If what Lord Lymond told you was what I told his maester, then you should have no reason to doubt me.” Yang answered.

“From a different world. Different laws, animals and gods. But not from Planetos as you claim.” Edmure answered, giving Yang all she needed to know that her words had been passed accurately.

“Men here rule and women are seen as little more than objects to use, traded, or to form alliances. Where I come from, we command the same respect and position of any man, which is why I have kept away from higher lords so far.” Yang explained to him.

“Women have the same rights as men. What foolish world have you created in that pretty little head of yours?” Edmure scoffed, taking her words as lies once more.

“Then as proof, I give you the Valyrian blade.” Yang stood, unstrapped it from her waist and handed it to him with a nonchalant expression. Edmure gazed at it cautiously and reached for it.

“What do you want in return for it? If it turns out to be Valyrian as you claim.”

“Nothing. I simply cannot keep it.” Yang answered. Edmure pulled his hand back.

“Why?” He questioned, suddenly worried that she may have stolen it from another house.

“Because it… it…” Yang closed her eyes and goosebumps ran down both arms. “When I got it was when the family attacked me. It drew blood from me twice before I slew a man with it.” She trembled as she told him this. _Don’t make me relive it._

“They attacked you because they saw what it was then?” Edmure asked, taking the scabbard the blade rested in and drew it out halfway. Yang watched as his eyes widened in astonishment. He hadn’t believed her, right up until the moment that he saw how the steel rippled like those the knight had only dreamed of having. “Truth… you found it in the Gods Eye?”

“I told you that already, or at least Lymond did. They called it Dark Sister in the stories. Do you know what that means?” Yang questioned.

“One of the ancient Targaryen blades… this is impossible. I must get to Maester Vyman to examine the blade for a certainty.” He sheathed the blade with a clank and looked at Yang more sternly and with a respectful and dignified gaze, much unlike his earlier amorous look. “But…”

“I killed a boy.” Yang growled, turning back to look over the river yet again. A tear streamed down her cheek for Edmure to see. “The man I killed was his father, and when I tried to comfort the boy… he stabbed me.” Yang saw it all again, the dagger embedded in her, Gerrar’s hand holding it before seeing his awkwardly angled neck as he lay lifeless on the ground. _Gods! Dad, mum, I’m sorry._

“I am sorry, truly.” Edmure said though he sounded uncertain. “You killed them in self-defence?” Yang just nodded as she pulled the thin cloak she’d been given tighter around her. Blue and red with a leaping silver trout, the colours and animal that made the sigil of House Tully.

“Remain here in Riverrun as my guest. I have given you guest right, meaning that no harm will come to you under my roof. This custom is ancient and sacred among the old gods and the new. To break it would call forth their wroth. So rest easy and face your past, living in Westeros isn’t easy.” Edmure began to walk away but spoke again. “You may yet need to kill again.”

Once Edmure’s footsteps had well disappeared, Yang looked down to Embla and scratched beneath her chin. _Not again. We won’t need to._ She told herself, but his words rung in her head. _Face your past. Be prepared to kill again._


	17. Barra the Bastard

** Nora **

Madness had almost run amuck throughout the Red Keep when the queen had learned what the Hand’s Lady wife had done. It took only moments for the king to be informed, and he didn’t care that Nora was near enough to listen in. She hadn’t gone far since Ser Arys Oakheart had had interrupted their argument about the Targaryen girl, but when she heard that Eddard Stark had been injured, she began to worry.

Though he hadn’t spoken to her much, he had been the one to send her Robert’s way after the two old friends had a disagreement in front of the small council. Eddard had told her of His Grace’s plot to kill an innocent girl with a babe in her belly and handed in his position. She didn’t know why, but his men had all been killed and had the Kingslayer wanted to, Eddard too would lie dead.

Cersei threatened to have the man killed anyway, but Robert would not see his friend harmed further or even resting in a dungeon. He loved and hated the unconscious man, but his reluctance to give Cersei what she wanted was more so because he wanted to hear Ned’s side.

“Nora. I command you to stand guard over Ned’s body. Go and put you armour on and grab your hammer.” Robert had ordered as Maester Pycelle tended to the broken leg that had been broken. Nora knew what it was, a compound fracture as she even caught a glimpse of bone.

“Protect him? Her?! Robert, your pet shouldn’t even be in the keep. Send her away or I’ll…” Cersei had started.

“You’ll what? Tell your brother to kill her? He has fled, Littlefinger told me so.” Varys had also confirmed this not long after. “You can try Cersei, but if anyone other than myself, his daughters, or the Grand Maester enter.” Robert looked to Nora.

“I’ll break their legs and their friends can collect them as they scream.” Nora gave him a bow and left.

She returned in her armour, hammer in her grasp and found two young girls there. Robert told her that the elder was called Sansa, and the younger Arya. Nora noticed how Sansa was crying, while Arya remained more stern, teary eyed and weeping, but in silence.

For six days Nora stood guard while Robert sorted out his people. The Lannister men at arms were often at odds with the Starks guards, the Baratheon ones caught between the, and having to end several close calls. In the end, the Lannister men were forbidden by the king to be near the Tower of the Hand, where Eddard rested. Cersei could be heard by many that night, scolding the king to no avail.

When Nora did get the chance to escape from the room, she often found herself being questioned by Varys or Renly. She liked Renly, a smaller and more noble version of Robert. Perhaps it was because he was younger or didn’t have to go through a war and lose the woman he loved. Robert had his reasons, but Nora couldn’t forgive him for wanting the dragon princess killed.

It was the fourth day that Varys spoke to her about the decision, only after she had raised questions. It turned out that only Eddard and the honourable Barristan Selmy were the only two in the entire small council that were against killing the girl. This ended her wishes to speak to Varys and Renly, letting Varys have an earful and pass it on to Renly.

She was steamed after that, blood boiling and teetered on the edge of breaking someone’s legs. It was fortunate that the next person she saw was Barristan, ordered by the king to give Nora a night off her charge. She thanked him after taking her stag helmet off and went to her own quarters. Lannister men gave her dirty looks, she even saw the queen who looked as though she wanted to kill the ginger. But Nora only smirked, further frustrating the queen who hadn’t gotten her way.

Sansa prayed often and loudly, to the old gods and the new. But it was Arya that concerned Nora. The entire time she didn’t say a word, and the look on her face was one of rage, silent it was, but bubbling just below the surface.

When Eddard did finally wake, his men tended him and then summoned the king as they were charged to do. Nora remained inside the room as everyone left, everyone save for Eddard, Robert, herself, and Cersei. When blue met green, the queen gave a hateful look, but Nora didn’t speak or move.

“Your Grace… I beg your pardons, I cannot rise.” Eddard told him. Robert didn’t seem to care at all and went for the wine, even offering some to Ned who requested that he only be given a small cup.

“I take it you know what Catelyn has done?” Robert asked after a mouthful of Arbor wine. Nora knew, she had heard that Ned’s wife had taken the queen’s brother, Tyrion Lannister, also known as the Imp.

“I do. My Lady wife is blameless, Your Grace. All she did, she did at my command.” Eddard said with a pale certainty.

“I am not pleased, Ned.” Robert grumbled.

“By what right do you dare lay hands on my blood?” Cersei demanded to know. “Who do you think you are?”

“Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and former hand of the King.” Nora spoke the titles much to the surprise of Ned, anger of Cersei, and humour of Robert.

“He was the hand. But now…” Cersei began to growl.

“Silence! You asked a question and she answered it.” Robert boomed.

“She shouldn’t even be here. Just because your whore can hold a hammer…” Robert was about to strike her when Nora spoke.

“I am no whore. Robert has never had me, nor will he. You fear my power though, the queen of nightmares and…” Robert struck Nora who seen it coming and didn’t even bother to avoid him. It was Robert’s hand that stung from impacting the helm he had made for her. _Stupid fat man. Did your anger blind this choice too?_

“Enough!” Robert’s face was red with his anger, the girls bickering and Ned’s defiance. “You will command Catelyn to release the dwarf at one, and you will make your peace with Jamie.” He commanded.

“Three of my men were butchered before my eyes, because Jamie Lannister wished to chasten me. Am I to forget that?” Ned answered, again not accepting a royal command.

“My brother was not the cause of this quarrel.” Cersei spoke out in defence of her blood. “Lord Stark was returning drunk from a brothel. His men attacked Jaime and his guards, even as his wife attacked Tyrion on the Kingsroad.” This surprised Nora greatly, it was lucky she still had her helmet on, though her eyes widened, exposed through the visor.

“You know me better than that Robert. Ask Lord Baelish if you doubt me, he was there.” Ned answered quietly, beads of sweat on his brow. _I wonder if he is in pain._ Nora’s eyes went to his bandaged leg, secure and straight.

“I already spoke with him. He claims he rode off to bring the gold cloaks before the fighting began. But he admits you were returning from some whorehouse.” Robert spoke with a hint of disbelief; he knew Ned better than most.

“Some whorehouse? Damn your eyes Robert, I went there to have a look at your daughter!” Nora’s hammer swayed, almost touching the ground as it swung like an old clock. But Cersei did nothing, Robert neither. “Her mother has named her Barra. She looks like that first girl you fathered, when we were boys together in the Vale.” Cersei’s face revealed nothing, if she felt anything Nora couldn’t spy it.

“Barra.” Robert said, now with more rosy cheeks of embarrassment followed by the clearing of his throat. “Is that supposed to please me? Damn the girl, I thought she had more sense.” Nora glared at Robert, first he wanted this girl and her baby dead, and now the news of a child of his own within the city failed to cause him to act more fatherly, emotional.

Nora was numb as she processed this, to her, a shocking event. Yet Robert and Cersei barely did a thing as the Otherworlder found herself battling through her mind, trying to figure out what she could do. It wasn’t until there was a loud smack, skin on skin and a stumble from the queen who fell to one knee before almost bouncing back to unsteady feet.

“I’ll wear this as a badge of honour.” Cersei said, showing no weakness even as her cheek reddened.

“Wear it in silence, or I will honour you again.” Robert threatened as he commanded one of the kingsguard to come and escort Cersei back to the bedchambers. Only once the door closed again did Robert speak.

“I should not have hit her. That was not… that was not kingly.” Robert stared at his hand, a trickled of sweat making its way into his thick black beard. “I was always strong… no one could stand before me, no one. How do you fight someone if you can’t hit them?” He poured himself another drink and down it in one go. “Rhaegar… Rhaegar won. I killed him Ned, I drove the spike right through that black armour and he died at my feet. Yet he won, he has my Lyanna, and I have her.” He seethed at the thought of his wife, beautiful for sure, but even Nora knew there was no love between them.

“Your Grace… We must talk…”

“I am sick unto death of talk. Tomorrow I am going into the Kingswood to hunt.” Robert said, dismissing his friend’s need.

“If the gods are good, I shall not be here when you return. You commanded me to return to Winterfell, remember?” Ned said. Robert just reached inside one of his pocket and flung something at Ned.

“Like it or not, you are my hand. Damn you, I forbid you to leave.” Robert told him as he made for the door.

“The Targaryen girl!” Ned called, causing Robert to turn with a fury.

“I’ll hear not more of it! Take that off again and I swear to you, I’ll pin it on Jamie Lannister.” Robert pointed and made his way past Nora. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” And then Robert disappeared, leaving Just Nora and Ned alone.

They were silent for a while, Nora stepping closer to the side of the bed and looking down over the broken man who had been reinstated as the Hand of the King. _His wife started this, on his orders then._

“What do you want girl?” Ned asked, playing with the hand clasp in his hand.

“Robert’s baby, Barra was it?” Ned just nodded. “Can you tell me where she is, which whorehouse, where I might take the child, a safe place.” Nora asked simply. Ned only stared at her with a creased brow.

“Why do you care, you’re Robert’s pet are you not? I’d rather not endanger the child, though now that Cersei knows…” His voice trailed off as he thought.

“Robert can’t hurt me, and our… friendship, much like yours and his, is going through a rough patch. I’ve told him he can’t kill the dragon girl. She and the unborn baby haven’t done anything. Yes he told me the future risks, but his family rules now and the dragons have nothing.” Nora said, taking her helm off and letting her ginger hair show.

“You’re against his killing… against the dismissing of his own daughter?” Ned questioned.

“Obviously. She’s a Baratheon, at least have Renly look after her, or his other brother.” Nora answered.

“Stannis, and she isn’t a Baratheon. She’s a bastard, Barra Waters, that is her name.” Ned told her to which Nora huffed.

“Barra Baratheon sounds better, I don’t even know if I’m a bastard, but Valkyrie is my name.” Nora said proudly. _I wonder if my parents were together together?_

“From your world perhaps, I have seen you fight, Robert has told me of your tale. Bastards from your world might keep their father’s name, but not here.” Ned sounded troubled by that, which is when Nora growled.

“Why not? It’s just a name, the girl deserves to know her father too.” Nora’s cheeks puffed.

“A bastard child is from out of wedlock…” Nora glared at Ned.

“I know what a bastard is.”

“By the laws of our lands, they cannot inherit their father’s lands, titles, or raise his sigil as their own. People often think of bastards as lesser stock, born from lust and weakness and are shunned by society.” Ned told her while Nora just nodded along, soaking up what she was given. “Most bastard born children do not have family names, just their name and nothing more. Most of the time it is only the bastard of a highborn that gets given one of the names.” Ned said as he closed his eyes, resting as his leg throbbed in pain.

“One of the names? You said Barra would have the last name Waters, why?” She questioned.

“You have learned that there are nine regions in Westeros?” Ned asked, his eyes cracking open enough to see Nora nod. “The surname a bastard receives is connected to either where they were born or where they were raised. The Crownlands bastards are called Waters. Dorne, Sand. Iron Isles, Pyke. In the North we call them Snow. The Reach called the flowers. Riverlands, Rivers. Stormlands Storm…” _Storm! Renly said something about seeing his bastard nephew._ “… Vale, Stone. And in the Westerlands.” Ned growled as he started on them. “Hill. Those are the bastard names; Barra Waters is the girl’s name.”

“Thank you Lord Stark.” Nora said, this time addressing him as one should. “Shall I send for your daughters and have your own guards replace me?” Eddard nodded.

“Talk to Littlefinger. If you want to find the babe, see him.” And then she was gone. It didn’t take long for Stark guards to form up all over the Tower of the Hand almost doubling their guard, Nora even seen his daughters running to their awakened father. Sansa in tears, Arya more collected but no more calm.

Nora did go to Littlefinger, Lord Baelish as he was correctly called to his face. Together they set off to the whorehouse that had seen Eddard get himself into trouble. Nora had never been in one having been both too young on Remnant, and uninterested in what happened behind closed doors. But neither concerned her anymore, nor did the sounds of both men and women groaning, the sound of skin slapping on skin. It was the smell that did her in, she had never smelled sex before and Littlefinger did not once apologise for it.

 _They could have scented candles at least. I know they have them._ Nora often used them in her own quarters when she meditated, something else Ren had instructed her on. It helped now more than ever, it acted like and anchor for Nora, a practice that made her feel connected to her best friend and only family she could remember.

Just like he did for Lord Stark, Littlefinger introduced the whore who had birthed yet another bastard of Robert’s. The mother had light red hair, not far of Nora’s own ginger. There was also a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and some of her cheeks.

“Did Robert send you? You have his stag.” The mother asked timidly as Nora still wore the armour fit especially for her.

“Yes.” She lied, but it was a lie that brought a smile to the girl’s face. _She looks younger than me. Lord Stark said she couldn’t be older than fifteen._ Nora observed, feeling sickened that the Robert she had been training with had taken girls even younger than her into his bed, and bred babies that even if he knew about, wanted nothing to do with.

“Lord Stark, he told the king, and he sent you… a woman.” The mother started.

“His current champion. I won the melee that was held during the Hand’s Tourney.” She smiled. “May I hold her?”

The mother was almost reluctant but handed over the infant. Nora cradled the babe in her arms, thankful it was wrapped in linen so the coolness and roughness of her armour wouldn’t touch her skin. Barra cooed in her arms and blinked up, their blue eyes meeting and in a moment she could see Robert in her eyes. _Eddard was right. Black haired, blue eyed. Both unlike her own mother._

“I named her Barra.” The mother spoke softly, smiling as Nora rocked the babe slowly. “What is to be done with her? Does Robert want to see her?”

“I’m afraid he cannot. His wife, the queen. She has also learned of this child and isn’t too pleased.” She wondered if she was truly lying, or if Cersei just didn’t care much like Robert.

“Then…” The mother whimpered.

“He will provide coin for yourself and the child. You will not need to work in this… place, anymore.” Nora handed the baby back and reached into her purse pulling out a single gold dragon and several silver stags. “I will return to you when accommodation has been sorted, if Lord Baelish or anyone else asks you to work, comply, and warn them. Upon my return I will punish them for mistreatment you suffer.”

The mother wept and leaned into Nora who held her close. Both women yet Nora was older slightly and without child. She didn’t know how more to comfort the young woman but stayed until the tears had stopped. On the way out she stopped to speak with Littlefinger.

“You found what you were seeking?” He asked with a wry smile.

“You already know the answer. I can’t believe Robert would sleep with someone so young.” Nora said softly.

“Old enough to breed…” Littlefinger held one hand up and mouthed an apology as Nora turned from soft hearted to a tense woman fixated on him with a dangerous look in her eyes.

“She will not work here any longer. I will talk with His Grace and find a place for the girl and her babe to stay. Somewhere safe and less… dirty.” Nora said.

“Dirty? My Lady you offend me. I take great pride in the cleanliness of my establishments. You could eat off… well the tables at least.” Littlefinger jested.

“Maybe, but you won’t make her work. Keep her safe until I return to take her somewhere nicer. And thank you, Lord Baelish.” Nora bowed her head and left the whorehouse. She went in not knowing what to think, but she came out knowing what she needed to do, even if she had to beat it out of the king upon his return from his hunt. 


	18. Unjust Trial

** Ruby **

“You bring him here without permission. You pollute my home with his presence.” Lysa Arryn, formerly Tully said while sitting in the weirwood throne of old. Her sickly son sat there too, sucking at her breast despite his age. After killing people and being brought back up to the Eyrie, Ruby felt sick upon seeing it. Her mind flashed back to her kills, imagining the white milk that flowed from the boy’s mouth to be crimson red, warm and wasted.

“Your aunt has done a bad thing Robin, a very bad thing.” Lysa told the boy. “You remember her don’t you?” Ruby looked over to Lady Catelyn as she was called, or Lady Stark, her husband’s family name. She looked dazed by her own sister and nephew, who at the age of nine still fed from his mother’s teats.

“Isn’t he beautiful? And strong too; Jon knew it, his last words were the seed is strong. He wanted everyone to know what a good strong boy his son would grow up to be. Look at him, the Lord of all the Vale.” Lysa continued, looking at her son with motherly love and affection while Ruby felt sick. _The seed is strong? Seed from his loins._

“Lysa.” Catelyn started. “You wrote me about the Lannisters, warning me…”

“… to stay away from them! Not to bring one here.” Lysa snapped back, finishing her sister’s sentence.

“Mummy… is that the bad man?” Came little Robert’s voice from the throne. Voices carried and sometimes echoed in the High Hall of the Eyrie.

“Yes, it is.” Lysa answered her son.

“He’s little.” Robert observed.

“He is Tyrion, the Imp of House Lannister. He killed your father, he murdered the hand of the king.” Lysa declared, growing visibly angry.

“Oh! Did I kill him too? I’ve been a very busy man.” Tyrion responded, although this accusation had made Ruby want to giggle. She bit her tongue to keep quiet. _Say nothing, she’s mean._

“You will watch you tongue.” Lysa growled. “These men are knights of the Vale. Every one of them loved Jon Arryn. Every one of them would die for me.”

“If any harm comes to me, my brother Jamie will see that they do.” Tyrion answered quite calmly, something that Ruby knew was a threat, but what could one man do.

“You can’t hurt us! No one can hurt us here! Tell him mummy! Tell him!” Little Rebert Arryn screamed in fear as he stated what most believed true. Lysa brought him back into her arms and gently chided the boy to silence.

“Mummy, I want to see the bad man fly.” Robert Arryn said playfully. _Fly? People can’t fly._ It was then that Ruby remembered what she had been told about the Moon Door and grew cold.

“Perhaps you will little one.”

“This man is my prisoner. I will not have him harmed.” Catelyn spoke loudly, telling her sister that she held the man’s life, not her. Ruby was thankful she wouldn’t see any more death.

“Ser Vardis. My sister’s guest is wary. Take him down below so he can rest. Introduce him to Mord.” Lysa commanded, and Ser Vardis did just that. Ruby looked at the man, the dwarf called Tyrion who met her gaze. She blushed only for the dwarf to smile.

“Fear not girl, I have only killed since arriving at the Vale.” Tyrion told her truthfully before being pushed ahead. Ser Vardis looked at Ruby and shook his head; she didn’t want to annoy him while he did his duty to the Lady of the Vale. He was the one that found Ruby, the first one in Westeros to speak with her after all.

The High Hall soon emptied with the two Lady sisters leaving together with the Lord of the Vale. The man they called The Blackfish, left too, along with Bronn and all the other lords, ladies, and ladies-in-waiting. Ruby then returned to her own quarters where she spent time reading the few books she could get her hands on and talking with whoever she could.

Eventually, she gained the courage to go down to these sky cell where they were keeping their “guest” Tyrion Lannister. She darted by using her semblance a few times, soaring through the air, weightless as a bunch of roses floating in the wind. They all looked dark and cold, they looked like shelves on the side of the mountain's sheer cliffs, left open to the cold sky. She came to find that they were all slightly sloping floors which unnerved her greatly.

But once she spotted the imp, the dwarf of Lannister, he was sleeping. She left him with a fresh loaf of bread, a skin of wine and a note reading. “Throw whatever is left off the side.” She wouldn’t know if he got her gifts until she returned that very evening in her second attempt to speak with him. Again he was sleeping, but this time she could see him shivering and felt terrible. _This isn’t how you should treat prisoners. He even denied_ _that he was the one that killed what’s his name._

She put a blanket over him and left again, no food or wine but warmth that she hoped would keep him from freezing. It was the following morning that she was finally able to meet with him, face to face as he stared at her bewildered as to how she got there from the outside. She wasn’t sweating meaning she couldn’t have climbed, and the way she carried the wine skin and bread made it impossible to climb.

“How did you get here?” Tyrion asked curiously as his mismatching eyes found the goodies she had brought. “Ah, it was you that has been blessing me. Though I could do without a beating. Mord found me with that blanket on. Hence the bruising.” He gestured to his face horrifying Ruby.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he’d do that. I don’t have any experience with… well, a lot of things.” She openly admitted, walking in closer and handing him the items she brought.

“Don’t worry about it. What you have given me has helped keep my spirits up. What do they call you?” Tyrion asked as he tore off some bread and ripped it again with his teeth.

“Ruby Rose. I’m from Vale, though it’s a different Vale than this one.” She said sheepishly.

“There are two Vales in the world? Is the other one somewhere further East?” Tyrion asked between mouthfuls.

“No… Not East or West, South or North either.” Ruby gave a sad smile and sat down against the cold stone walls of the cell.

“A Vale that isn’t part of our world. You’re an interesting one. Did Lysa Arryn believe your story?” Tyrion asked with Ruby just shaking her head.

“Why would they. I’m just a little girl, lost and unknowing of… well… everything in this world.” Ruby muttered.

“Little? You already have teats, can’t be younger than my niece to say the least.” Tyrion smiled while Ruby crossed her arms over her chest. _He’s a pervert._

“I’m fifteen.”

“Old enough to wed and provide Lysa an alliance. Tell me, has she offered your hand to anyone?”

“My hand?” Ruby looked at her hand then got what he meant and blushed. “Yes. I keep refusing but she always yells at me afterwards. She’s mean.”

“Mean and a liar. I didn’t kill anyone, least of all the attempt on the Stark child Lady Stark believes I had a part in. Jon Arryn died from old age, an illness so I’m told.” Tyrion this time took some wine and drank greedily. “So, you’re not from here and you don’t like it here. You fight unlike anything I’ve ever seen and can do that… that… woosh thing.”

Ruby smiled and did just that, using her semblance to fly around the room causing petals to fall. Then she darted outside into the open air and danced among the winds of the Vale. When she came back into Tyrion’s cell she giggled like the schoolgirl she was and smiled.

“That… exactly that. I’ve never seen it before.” Tyrion said, his voice dripping with exuberance.

“It’s nothing really. You should see what my teammates can do.” Ruby said joyfully. “Yang is strong and brave, but a little blind. Blake is like a shadow, she’s a Faunus too.” She covered her mouth, horrified that it slipped out. “Sorry, can you not tell anyone the Blake part. She’d hurt me if she found out.”

“Of course, it’ll be our little secret.” Tyrion said with a smile. “Is there anyone else on your “team” as you called it.”

“There are four of us. Team RWBY, Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang. Weiss is my partner; we were supposed to go through our years at beacon together. But now I’m here, and my friends are… I don’t know where they are.” Ruby teared up and used the sleeves of her blue-white dress to dry her eyes.

“I am sorry for your loss… losses more precisely.” Tyrion sounded honest, caring even.

“It’s ok… I’d make some new friends but… Lysa is controlling and Ser Vardis doesn’t have time to play.” Ruby said sorrowfully.

“And what of this partner of yours? Is this a relationship or something more of an arrangement?” Tyrion asked, tipping the last of the wine into his gob.

“It’s and arrangement our Headmaster came up with. During our entrance to Beacon we were all sent into the Emerald Forest. In there, the first person we made eye contact with was the one we’d be stuck with for our four years of training.” Ruby smiled brightly but her smile quickly faded. “Weiss didn’t like me at first, but now we’re friends, the best of friends.” Ruby’s big bright silver eyes showed her honest emotions as tears slipped from the corners again. “Must be the altitude.” She claimed.

“Friends come and go, new ones are found and lost. But the true ones, they’ll always remember you and should you ever see them again, I’m sure they’d greet you joyfully.” Tyrion said sweetly, but then there was rustling down the hall. “You must go, too much noise apparently.” He shooed her away and tossed the items over the side. Ruby disappeared in a flurry of petals moments before there were keys at the door to Tyrion’s cell.

She didn’t stick around to hear the exchange; she was much too frightened that the jailor would inform Lady Lysa and she’d get yelled at yet again. _He was… nicer than what I thought he would be._ Ruby thought as she made her way from her room, acting as though she had only just been leaving the room for the first time. And she was, if she was using the door and not the window she used her semblance to sneak in and out of.

It was a couple days later and another gift of bread and wine before Tyrion got a message to Lysa using the jailor that had been beating him. Ruby went, clothed in her usual combat attire. A long black sleeved dress with a high collar and trimmed red on the sleeves. A black waist cincher laced red on the front with further red trimming around the bottom of the skirt. Black stocking covered her pale legs, a little torn now from her time in Westeros. Thick black boots guarded her feet with red trim and laces to match the rest of her outfit. To top it off she had her red hooded cloak on too, and a silver rose brooch pinned to her belt.

She stood off to the side of the High Hall beside a knight and a couple of old men. Ladies-in-waiting were seated on the stone benches a metre before them. They were dressed in fine dresses and gown, jewellery hung from their ears, wrists and necks. One even had a tiara on that reminder Ruby of Pyrrha, though it was of different colour and held a small blue gem.

“You wish to confess your crimes?” Lysa asked once her son had stopped tapping his knife against the weirwood throne.

“Yes, My Lady.” Tyrion answered soberly.

“Sky cells always break them.” Lysa spoke to her sister, but the court heard, everyone in the High Hall could hear. “Speak, Imp. Meet your gods as an honest man.”

“Where do I begin my Lords and Ladies.” Tyrion asked looking around, not once meeting Ruby’s eyes. “I’m a vile man, I confess it. My crimes and sins are beyond counting. I have lied and cheated, gambled and whored.” Ruby felt her cheeks going red as he mentioned whores.

“I’m not particularly good at violence, but I’m good at convincing others to do violent things for me. You want specifics I suppose.” Tyrion said after the hall remained silent. “When I was seven I saw a servant girl, bathing in the river. I stole her robe. She was forced to return to the castle, naked and in tears. I close my eyes and I can still see her tits bouncing.” Ruby began to glare at him, she remembered how he had mentioned her own teats not three days ago and found his story unsettling. Through the court a low sound was heard, whispers and soft chuckles.

“When I was ten, I stuffed my uncle’s boots with goat shit. When confronted with my crime I blamed the squire. Poor boy was flogged and I escaped, justice.” Ruby heard the way he focused on his last word and relaxed ever so slightly.

“When I was twelve, I milked my eel into a pot of turtle stew.” Gasps and louder laughter slipped from several of the attendees as Tyrion proclaimed his next crime. “I flogged the one-eyed snake. I skinned my sausage. I made the bald man cry, into the turtle stew.” Laughter crept forth, louder, longer, more people giving in to the “crimes” Tyrion had committed. Ruby, rosy cheeked and innocent was disgusted, but she gave a soft giggle.

“Which I do believe my sister then ate, or at least I hope she did. I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel…” But there was no more to the story as Lysa ordered silence from atop the raised platform that held the throne.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lysa asked, brow furrowed and lips pursed.

“Confessing my crimes.” Tyrion answered quite simply, adding a hint of sadness to his voice.

“Lord Tyrion, you are accused of hiring a man to slay my son Bran in his bed. And of conspiring to murder my sister’s husband, Lord Jon Arryn, The Hand of the King.” Catelyn’s voice was clear and to the point.

“Oh I’m very sorry. I don’t know anything about all that.” Tyrion told them. _He’s claiming he is innocent. Where is their proof?_ Ruby wondered.

“You’ve had your little joke, I trust you enjoyed it. Mord, take him back to the dungeons. Make sure this one is a smaller cell, with a steeper floor.” Lysa commanded with a smirk.

“Is this how, justice, is done in the Vale? You accuse me of crimes, I deny them, so you throw me in a cell to freeze and starve. Where is the king’s justice?” Tyrion asked, not to Lysa, but to everyone around him, everyone who was there to bear witness. “I am accused and I demand a trial.”

“If you’re tried and found guilty, then by the king’s own laws you will pay with your life!” Lysa yelled the last bit, angered by Tyrion’s defiance in her home.

“I understand the law.” Tyrion said.

“We have no executioner in the Eyrie. Life is more elegant here. Open the Moon Door.” Lysa’s order was followed quickly and two men went to work on a large wheel. Mechanical sounds rose from beneath them as the door in the centre of the floor was forced open, exposing the quickest way down from the Eyrie, and certain death.

“You want a trial my Lord Lannister, very well. My son will listen to whatever you have to say and you will hear his judgement. Then you will leave, through one door or the other.” Lysa said, smiling callously the entire time.

“No need to bother Lord Robin. I demand a trial by combat.” The moment Tyrion requested this, the hall began buzzing like a hive as the lords, knights and whoever else was there began to talk. Ruby had to ask the nearest man what a trial by combat was and as the man explained it, she was sickened to learn it could be to the death.

“You have that right.” Lysa called, sounding a lot less confident at his request. Several knights all started calling out, one at a time, asking to play the part of Lysa’s champion in the fight against Tyrion. _But he can’t fight, he can’t even walk properly._ Ruby had a terrible feeling that these would be the last moments of Tyrion’s life.

“Ser Vardis, you’re quiet. Do you want to avenge my husband?” Lysa asked.

“With all my heart, My Lady. But the Imp is half my size, it’s shameful to slaughter such a man and call it justice.” Ser Vardis answered as he remained on one knee. _That’s right! Vardis wouldn’t kill him cheaply._

“Agreed.” Tyrion said, echoing the knights reasoning.

“You demanded a trial by combat.” Lysa growled.

“Now I demand a champion. I have that right same as you.” Tyrion said defiantly.

“My Lady, I would gladly fight the Imp’s champion.” Ser Vardis answered as he got back on two feet. “For you.”

“I wouldn’t be too glad, Ser. I name my brother, Jaime Lannister.” Again the court became loud with whispers. Ruby on the other hand was quiet, unsure who Jaime was other than he was Tyrion’s brother.

“The Kingslayer is hundreds of miles from here.” Lysa said.

“Send a raven for him, I’m happy to wait.” Tyrion told her, but Lysa shook her head smiling.

“The trial will be today.” She announced. Ruby felt cold all over again as Tyrion asked for a volunteer. His eyes met hers but she looked down. _Sorry!_ She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t be the one to champion him. She had killed and it felt terrible, then there was the fact she would wind up fighting Ser Vardis of whom she wished not to harm.

Laughter began to fill the hall, louder, all directed at Tyrion as he asked time and again if anyone present would stand for him as champion. _He risked his life… yet no one will stand for him._ Ruby teared up, not wanting to see more death.

“I’ll stand for the dwarf.” Came a voice near the entrance of the hall. Ruby discovered it to belong to one of the men who came here with Catelyn, Bronn.

The hall was only silent for a moment as the man Bronn, and the dwarf Tyrion, looked at one another. Ruby knew that they knew one another, but given what Bronn was wearing and what Ser Vardis was wearing, she already knew who the more likely victor was.

There was a brief pause in the proceedings as everyone began moving aside and the arms and armour were brought forwards. Ser Vardis put his helmet on and took a shield, clad head to toe in heavy plate armour that was intimidating even to Ruby. She had fought against armoured opponents before, Jaune and Cardin, a few others too, but it was always the aura that was the biggest problem.

Here neither of the men had aura and their blades were sharp, made for cutting and stabbing. Ser Vardis appeared to Ruby to be much more prepared as Bronn refused a shield and didn’t wear full face protection. Just a simple steel halfhelm and black oiled ringmail over his leather. Ruby didn’t want to watch, but she like all the others were unable to look away as the little lord, Robert Arryn, called Robin by many commanded the trial by combat to begin.

They charged together, swords ringing off one another before Bronn forced Ser Vardis’ away and stepped back, avoiding a wide sweeping blow. Ruby’s heart thumped beneath her chest as Vardis pressed on, unmoved by the first contact.

Bronn moved freely, quickly, unhindered by the bulky plate armour that Ser Vardis was encased in. Parry after parry, Bronn kept his distance from the knight, only ever blocking when he needed to. His evasion was impressive even to Ruby, although many of the onlookers cried out that he was a craven, meaning coward on Westeros. But Ruby began to see things clearly as the fight continued.

The early aggression from Ser Vardis was gone, replaced by a slowly tiring man who was panting. Ruby could hear it above all else. _He’s getting tired, Bronn’s wearing him out._ She realised, but there was also the slight reach advantage from the sellsword too, and age. Ser Vardis looked older than Bronn without their helms on, but now his movements really gave it away.

After moving through the crowd and forcing people to move to the safer side of the hall, Bronn finally landed a blow, running his sword under Ser Vardis’ armpit causing the knight to groan as he felt the pain. Still they continued, with Bronn ducking another swipe and using his deft footwork to outmanoeuvre the much slower and quickly tiring knight of the Vale.

Ser Vardis continued his attack, tired and slow. _He’s so slow now. Can’t he give up?_ Ruby wondered _,_ as Bronn performed a flurry of counter attacks that bounced off Ser Vardis’ helm, sword, shield. He then ran an edge of his blade against the back of his opponent’s lesser protected thigh, drawing blood and making Ser Vardis fall to his knees.

The hall begged for him to stand and stand he did. Forcing himself up using his sword, shield, and remaining good leg, Ser Vardis faced his opponent once more. Ruby knew it was foolish as soon as it happened; a wild charge, a last gasp. And Bronn didn’t even use his sword, just tripped the knight as he passed and kicked his shield away as he stalked the downed man. It was over, Ser Vardis had lost and without too much bloodshed.

Still they encouraged Vardis to fight, to kill the sellsword and serve justice to Tyrion Lannister. A strike shot backwards from Ser Vardis, but the sellsword caught his wrist, ending any hope of a victory for the knight, and the Vale. It was only when Bronn raised his own sword that the Vale supporters started crying.

“Nooo!”

“Mercy!”

“Have mercy!”

Even Ruby called for mercy on the first man she’d met on her arrival to the world, but Lysa sat silent, refusing to let Ser Vardis forfeit. Ruby’s heart caught in her throat as she tried to scream a second time, and when Bronn lowered his sword and aimed to pierce into Ser Vardis’ neck, it happened.

A whirlwind of red darted forwards, the sound of steel rung once and then again as a sword clattered to the ground several feet away. Ruby stood there, scythe in hand having struck the sword from Bronn’s grasp and pushing Ser Vardis back from the Moon Door. Bronn looked at her while whispers and calls of gratitude echoed from around the room.

Ruby waited until the sellsword backed off, but Tyrion approached her too. She looked at him and smiled sadly, tears in her eyes. Then they were like steel as she faced towards Lysa.

“Bronn won the trial. Tyrion has been proven innocent by your stupid gods.” Gasps surrounded her, but Ruby only continued. “You would have let him die when it was obvious the match ended long ago. You’re cruel and pathetic, willing to sacrifice a loyal knight for what? Nothing.” She growled, lowering her scythe and turning to Tyrion who nodded.

He went to Mord and was uncuffed, then he went over to Ser Rodrik Cassel who tossed him a purse of gold after he consulted non-verbally with his Lady, Catelyn Stark. He walked back towards Ruby smiling at her.

“You little… I should have you thrown out the Moon Door for…”

There was a loud crack, a smoking hole in the weirwood throne and a more than startled and confused looking Lysa, Robert, and Catelyn. Smoke rose from the end of Crescent Rose’s barrel too, the shot landing precisely where Ruby had aimed.

“That was a warning, the next one will go through you.” Ruby trembled as she made the threat. “I am leaving with Tyrion Lannister. Anyone who follows without his permission, I’ll make sure you meet your gods.”

She turned and followed Tyrion out, her scythe transforming back into its compact travel form which Ruby slipped onto its holster under her cloak. Bronn collected his sword and fell in behind her while Tyrion tossed the purse of gold to the jailer Mord.

“A Lannister always pays his debt.” Tyrion said loudly, making sure it echoed through the hall that had been left silent by Ruby’s sniper shot, not that any of them knew what it was. Ruby looked back past Bronn and saw Ser Vardis, being helped to a seated position. _You live now. Don’t waste it._ Ruby thought as she turned back around and found herself walking beside Bronn now. _Did I make the right choice? Where am I even going?_ She knew a few things, she was stronger than Bronn and Tyrion, but Bronn was still skilled and Tyrion had a clever mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, another Ruby chapter for all you Ruby fans. Note that someone didn’t die as they did in the books and show.
> 
> A big thanks to my beta reader and to those that left reviews. Your support is amazing 😊


	19. A Dragon’s Crown

** Pyrrha **

Pyrrha continued to train just beyond the limits of Vaes Dothrak, as not to break their law. It was forbidden to shed blood in the horse-lords capital; even wearing a blade that was sheathed drew the attention of many, hence why Pyrrha preferred training during dawn, so the darkness could at least hide the weapon at her hip better.

Dany had kept her word too, speaking with Khal Drogo about having someone of experience instruct Pyrrha on not only riding, but fighting from horseback. There was little resistance as many had witnessed when Pyrrha used her magic to throw the arrows away from her. Dozens had fallen to her while she was afoot, and considering that she was near his khalessi, she would probably be more deadly on horseback. So Drogo ordered one of his own to instruct her.

Day after day they trained, with Pyrrha being scolded and insulted after every screw up. Her teacher was harsh, Cohollo was his name, bloodrider to Drogo himself. Through sore rear end and thighs, shoulders and even back during her training, Pyrrha forced herself through it. Every pain was a lesson and one she didn’t feel like repeating.

Growing up to become the four-time champion of Mistral, Pyrrha knew horse-riding would be easy, but the way Cohollo made her move while bareback had her impressed with the Dothraki people like never before. She had killed so many gifted riders, yet now one of their own was teaching her, crafting her to be a rider that could match any other Dothraki.

As Dany’s belly grew larger and larger, showing the swell of the baby that was growing inside her, Pyrrha’s hands grew more callused, her bottom and thighs more used to the shape and feel of a horse that was working hard beneath her. She worked hard too, shifting side to side, turning to look behind her and hold there, and learning how best to strike an opponent on horseback with Cohollo knocking her off many times.

Bumps and bruises Pyrrha had, while Dany grew fatter and more tired more easily. But it was Zhali that annoyed Pyrrha the most. Her own slave that she freed often insulted her. It wasn’t until she did it while in the presence of Dany and Jorah that Pyrrha had snapped and sent her from her sight, commanding her never to return. Since then the servant never returned, and Pyrrha had to take care of her own arms and armour. Not that it was a big deal, she preferred it, spending some time alone with her things allowed her to think and reflect.

There were also days where Pyrrha wasn’t trained to ride though, and when those days came she would offer to take a single member of Dany’s ko to train alongside her. Two of them were older than Pyrrha, though far less skilled. The youngest of Dany’s three ko was Jhogo who was only sixteen.

With each of them came a handmaiden too, carrying fermented mare’s milk for refreshment, water in Pyrrha’s case as she requested no alcohol be given to her. Irri and Jhiqui were of Dany’s age, with Doreah being closer to Pyrrha’s age herself. And unlike the younger handmaids, Doreah was of fair skin, blue eyes, and had blonde-gold hair.

These days were the most fun for Pyrrha as she got to pass on her knowledge of combat. Though at first the kos refused, after being unable to beat the red-haired beauty, they all fell in line and listened to what was taught. Though they each specialised in something different, Pyrrha had fought the types before and gave them advice and sparred against them each many times.

One time even Dany and Jorah came to watch, that day Pyrrha happily sparred three on one, and danced around their attacks like she was teasing a child. They tired but kept fighting, but mistakes crept in and Pyrrha soon laid them all flat on their backs. She turned to see Dany smiling, Jorah with a tightly clenched jaw, and the two Dothraki handmaids looking concerned for the khaleesi’s ko. But the thing that made her really smile, was when the Lysene girl clapped softly for her victory.

But those days were rare, as Dany usually felt she had other, more important things to do. Such as tend her husband or prepare to be a mother, something Pyrrha worried about. A mother at fifteen, it would be strange, at least to her. But the handmaidens always said most women gave birth around then, often younger.

But as the heart-eating ceremony drew close, even Pyrrha stopped her training in order to be by Dany’s side. As the event approached, she had fasted herself in hopes that the hunger would better her willingness to eat the entire heart.

Pyrrha watched from start to finish. The horse heart hadn’t even been cooked which shocked her. _They’re going to make her eat it raw?_ She wondered as the old women started chanting with Dany positioned in the centre of the hut upon a raised wooden platform. The sun bore down on her as her shoulders rounded and her face dipped with every bite.

She saw the blood spurt from the heart once in a while and felt sick. _How can she keep going?_ She asked herself, believing that she couldn’t do that. Taking on a khalasar would have been easier than devouring a raw heart, especially one so large.

Jorah Mormont and Viserys Targaryen were standing with her, watching the teen take on the challenge. Even her brother voiced his belief, she couldn’t do it, she was just a small girl who looked even fairer as she ate. But her handmaidens were before her, as well as Drogo who never blinked and sat leaning towards his khalessi, as if to encourage her, to give her strength.

“What is she saying?” Viserys asked of the old crone, who was chanting as Dany ate the heart.

“The prince is riding. I have heard the thunder of his hooves. Swift as the wind, he rides. His enemies will cower before him. Their wives will weep tears of blood.” _Tears of blood? You mean him and his horde will rape all the women they come across._ Pyrrha frowned as Jorah finished. “She’s going to have a boy.”

“He won’t be a real Targaryen.” Viserys was quick to point out. “He won’t be a true dragon.” _Neither of you are dragons. Humans, flesh and blood._

The two men remained silent after that, baring witness to Dany in her attempt to eat the heart. And from what Pyrrha could see, she appeared to be doing well, until the woman lurched forwards, gagging. The crone went silent, as did the Dothraki within the building.

“What’s happening. Why do they look concerned?” Pyrrha asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“If a khalessi fails to eat all of the stallion's heart, it is said to be an ill omen. The child might be stillborn, come forth weak or deformed, or worse, female.” Jorah answered, just as Dany forced herself back up. _Females are not weak. She has eaten the heart, and the Dothraki fear to face me._ The crone started speaking again, and although Pyrrha could grasp most of what was said, it was Jorah’s translation to Viserys that had her understand it all.

“The stallion who mounts the world. The Stallion, is the khal of khals. He will unite the people into a single khalasar. All the people of the world will be his herd.” Jorah told him, and something about it stirred concern in Pyrrha. _No one person can claim everything. There will always be opposition._

Dany rose to her feet in the centre, turning for all to see. The blood from the stallion’s heart clutched at her throat while still trickling from around her mouth. Teeth and lips, her skin dyed red. Her hands blanketed in red that crawled to the points of her elbows. It was a messy sight, but one that had Drogo and the rest of the Dothraki looking on excitedly.

She spoke in Dothraki, slow enough for Pyrrha to understand too. She had named her child and the name stuck, the Dothraki chanting it around the room, his name travelling from one tongue to another as each man and woman added their voice to the cry. _Rhaego._ Pyrrha repeated with a smile. It sounded strong, and the way Drogo took Dany in his arms so that even she towered above him, showed that he was pleased.

“They love her.” She heard Viserys say. _Far more than they will love you._ Pyrrha found herself thinking. Drogo paraded her around the platform for all his followers and spectators to see. The khalessi that would birth the stallion who mounts the world.

“She truly is a queen today.” Jorah’s voice barely reached over the chanting. Pyrrha found her shoulder tapped and turned, finding a concerned looking knight, and the prince missing from the hut.

“Let’s find him. Before he does something stupid.” Pyrrha said. She understood that Viserys had a particular view of the world. He thought he was owed his family’s throne, thought that he was better than everyone else. It was dangerous thinking and had already gotten him in trouble before this point.

Pyrrha knew there was more to the ceremony, but she had to go and deal with Dany’s brother. She went to the wine markets while Jorah went back to Dany’s home where all her belongings were.

She looked for over an hour before Doreah found her. The handmaid explained that Dany was looking for her. _You better have found him Jorah._ She thought as she accepted the request and went to Dany. It was on the way back that she caught a glimpse of silver hair, she just hoped it wasn’t Viserys going to do something stupid.

“You left the ceremony immediately. Jorah said where to look for you though. Did you find what you sought?” The girl asked.

“I think so, but that isn’t important now is it. Why have I been summoned?” Pyrrha asked in return as they weaved through the streets of the market district.

“The feast, did you forget?” Doreah asked with a smile.

“Right, sorry. I just find the culture so… so…”

“Different?” Doreah asked.

“I suppose that’s one way to put it.” Doreah giggled and shook her head.

“The Dothraki have always lived like this. They will always live like this. Even after khalessi’s child has turned to dust.” Doreah told her.

“That’s a fair way off. Much could change between now and then.” She looked the handmaiden over and spoke. “What did you do before coming into Dany’s employ?”

“I worked in a pleasure house. But in Lys until Magister Illyrio found me.” _A pleasure…_ Pyrrha’s cheeks went bright red.

“Did you… why didn’t you try to escape?” Pyrrha asked.

“Escape? Why would I want to escape when there was a roof, beds, food and wine?” Doreah seemed confused by the question.

“Because… because you were a… whore.” Pyrrha scolded herself for calling the girl such a thing, but it was the truth.

“Being a whore was better than being a street girl and being raped. I knew many, they had children in their bellies, many that were younger than the khalessi too.” Doreah answered cause Pyrrha to feel a chill.

“This world is wrong.” Pyrrha muttered.

“World? Lys is a wonderful place. Perhaps one day, the khalessi will go there and take us with her. Then I can show you my home.” Doreah said with a sad smile. Pyrrha reached out taking her hand.

“We can go to your home Doreah. Just tell me to ask Dany and I’m sure she will allow it.” _And if she doesn’t then I’ll just steal you away and return you home. Free._

“I am sworn to the khalessi, ever since Magister Illyrio paid for me. She and her brother were… she was at least, kind to me. It is an honour to help teach her things.” Pyrrha latched onto her pause and questioned it.

“Viserys, you said Dany was kind but what about her brother? What did he do to you?” Pyrrha asked.

“He used me as men use whores. He is a prince and I am but a slave.” Defeat sounded in her voice and Pyrrha squeezed her hand.

“I won’t let him touch you again. And if he does I’ll break his finger, crack his teeth and knee him in the privates.” Pyrrha said boldly.

“Privates?” The handmaiden asked.

“Right… his umm… cock.” Pyrrha said as her cheeks flushed again.

“You are a great warrior. Khalessi and Dothraki riders speak of you both fondly and in fear. Yet just speaking the word cock brings out brightness in your cheeks.” Doreah giggled in amusement at the champion’s expense. “What if I said other things. Tits, pussy, lower lips…”

“Stop! Please.” Pyrrha felt as though her cheeks were on fire. “You are mean, I thought you were the nice one of the three.

“I am nice. Khalessi’s Dothraki handmaidens are less so. I… we have arrived. I must go to the khalessi and inform her that I found you.” Doreah made to leave and Pyrrha let her hand slip free. There were drums coming from the hall.

Drogo’s hall, Pyrrha knew this to be his although the silk tenting had been removed and the moon and stars were allowed to shine brightly even indoors. The scent of roasting meat, and fermented mare’s milk filled her nostrils. Horsemeat on spits in three great fire pits along the centre of the hall burned brightly as people gathered around them for warmth, light, and to tear food from the beasts.

The hall was crowded too, with people of lower importance being among the dirt, Pyrrha was currently standing amongst the dirt too, wading through the ocean of copper skinned men and women, all celebrating and not paying her much mind. Some of the women bared their top halves even, spinning and dancing on the lower tables with men cheering them on as their breasts of many sizes and firmness swayed and bounced about. _These women lack modesty._ Pyrrha spotted a pair going at it against one of the walls, further strengthening her opinion.

On the high bench Drogo sat, and beside him sat two others. Khal Ogo and Khal Jommo, both who were in Vaes Dothrak before Drogo and his khalasar arrived. Below them were their bloodriders, and further below were women, the wives. Jorah had told her days ago that Khal Jommo had taken four wives, another thing Pyrrha disliked about Dothraki culture.

She was about to take a seat against the back wall when Doreah returned to her and told her that Dany wished for her to join her along with Ser Jorah and the handmaidens. Her place was a place of high respect, and when she climbed to Dany’s bench she felt many eyes upon her. Blood red hair, emerald green eyes and fair skin, she was similar to Dany, a beacon that stood out amidst the copper skin and black hair of the Dothraki.

“Thank you for inviting me Dany. May I sit?” Dany thought for just a moment but nodded.

“You should address her as khalessi.” Jhiqui said sternly.

“She may be your queen, but I have yet to swear my fealty to anyone. Even Drogo I would call by name, if he ever spoke to me.” Pyrrha answered.

“Friends, please. This is a time for celebration. My son has a name and a future that…” Doreah was pulling at her elbow and pointing.

There, shuffling through the hall’s doorway was another with silver hair and violet eyes. His posture was askew and his stride showing the signs of drunkenness. He was dressed in scarlet silks that had been worn thanks to the travel. The blackness of his clothing was faded from the sun and his hair matted and tangled. Pyrrha knew that kings, even princes would appear finely dressed, but Viserys was far from both.

Then she saw it, the twinkle of a gem and the length of his scabbard. _No, you stupid fool._ Pyrrha clenched her own jaw, but it was the Dothraki cursing and hissing that worried her. Thankfully Dany sent Jorah to take care of him and see him safely out or to at least put his sword off to one side. She had only just taken a seat back on one of the fine cushions when loud laughter came from where the three khals sat.

“Khal Drogo! I’m here for the feast.” Viserys said loudly in an almost polite tone. It was the work of the wine, Pyrrha had been around him long enough to know he disliked everything about the Dothraki.

Jorah translated the words from Drogo, words that she and Dany knew somewhat, but Viserys hadn’t even bother trying to learn even though he’d been a part of the khalasar for several months now, half a year perhaps.

“That is no place for a king.” Viserys said sternly. Drogo had motioned for him to join those who held no honour, right at the back of the hall. It was an insult in front of the highest members of three khalasars, something that would seriously wound Viserys pride.

“Is place… for Cart King.” Drogo seemed to growl as he used the common tongue, and those that understood him laughed, but the laughter turned to silence and then a prolonged hissing as Viserys did the worst thing he could. The flames flickered along the steel of his sword, bared in front of the entire hall. _He is spitting on their laws now. Oum have mercy._ Dany cried out for her brother to stop.

“There she is. The whore.” Viserys said smiling, making his way towards her after threatening to strike Jorah down. He wore no armour to the feast; he had figured there was no need.

“Please Viserys, it is forbidden. Put the sword down and share my cushions. Share my food and drink, take the dragon eggs if you want. Just please put the sword down.” Dany begged. _Take the dragon eggs?_ Pyrrha had seen the way Dany treated her eggs, holding them close and warming them, as if she was hoping they might hatch from the stone there were.

“Do as she tells you fool. Before you get us all killed.” Jorah growled from where Viserys had left him. His own eyes mostly fixed on the situation but darting from time to time trying to see how the Dothraki would act.

“They can’t kill us.” Viserys laughed. “They can’t shed blood in their stupid city. But I, can.” He pointed the blade towards Daenerys with Doreah stepping in front, only for Viserys to push her away at sword point. _Bastard._

Pyrrha pulled Dany down who had stood as she cried out and manoeuvred herself in front of her. The steel licked at her aura, confusing Viserys who had meant to cut her. His eyes were full of hate, anger, jealously and fear. Pyrrha knew it was the wine, but her parents had always told her to be careful of the effects it has on men. It makes them bold, reckless, fills them with false courage and authority, all of which he was displaying.

“Move aside you red-headed whore. Or I’ll cut you down and then take my sister and her eggs. I’ll even cut the bastard from her belly and leave him for Khal Drogo.” It was then that she saw something sad, truly sad. A tear slipped from his right eye. _You poor fool._ “I want the crown he promised me. I want the Seven Kingdoms. Until I have them I shall deprive him of his whore and his bastard.”

Drogo said something quickly from his position and it caught Viserys’ attention. If he weren’t drunk, Pyrrha wondered if he would have seen or heard the men moving around him. He was encircled, but none of the Dothraki made a move.

“What did he say?... Tell me!” Viserys growled, pressing his sword against Pyrrha, the tip pointed right between her breasts. But the sword didn’t move at all, even as he struggled, gripped it with two hands and grunted in exertion. Pyrrha didn’t need to be told what was said, a crown was promised, though she was unsure how Drogo would give it to him.

Pyrrha lowered her hand, she had touched his sword just for a moment while he was distracted, and now the situation was nothing but a game to her. Her semblance allowed her take control of her opponents weapons, guiding them as she willed but she always used it subtly, until now.

As Viserys gave it another push, Pyrrha raised the sword up, higher and higher as the point reached for the starry sky that was open above them. _Let go fool._ She prayed, and it happened, with Viserys near falling over, though now he was without his blade and vulnerable.

“You broke a sacred law and threatened to carve out my friends baby. This would result in both of their deaths at your clumsy hand, boy.” She knew Viserys was older, but not by many years. “The sword is mine now, I’ll do with it what I please.” She saw Drogo looking on and closed her eyes.

She felt the wind of something thrown at her and then struggling, the horrid noise of bones breaking, something she had accidently done to an opponent once. _Accidents happen even in training._ She told herself, but this was no training and the man’s screams filled the hall as everyone remained silent.

Drogo made for the nearest cooking pot and shouted a command and it was emptied. Into the pot his belt of golden medallions fell. _What is he doing?_ No one questioned why he would ruin the craftsmanship of the medallions, and after several long minutes with Viserys’ cries of pain and the sound of wet bubbles popping did Drogo move.

In his hands he held the pot, the wooden parts that were cool. His bloodriders kicked Viserys’ knees forward forcing him to his knees as they both restricted his arm movements, even though one was clearly broken and twisted.

“Look away khalessi.” Jorah told her.

“No.” Was the emotionless response he got from Dany.

“Sister please!... Dany tell them, make them!” Viserys’ cries for help fell on deaf ears, even Pyrrha didn’t move. He had gone too far in her mind. Raping was one matter, killing a sibling and a nephew out of greed. That was something Pyrrha wanted to fight against and by standing with Dany she had.

Drogo stood over Viserys, the Targaryen had lost all of the courage the wine had given him, the boldness that had seen him ignore the laws of these people. Pyrrha wanted to look away, but her eyes were fixed, she wanted to see this through just as Dany had chosen to as well.

“A crown for a king.” Drogo said huskily, upending the pot over Viserys’ head and letting the molten gold flow.

The sounds that came from the heir to the Iron Throne were inhuman. His feet hammered the ground at a rapid pace, slowing, slowing until they stopped completely. The gold dripped onto his formerly fine silk setting small parts ablaze. _They can’t spill blood. But there are other ways to kill._ Pyrrha figured as the bloodriders let the lifeless body fall. His head, crowned in gold landed with a thud.

His body was dragged away and the feast began to spark back into life. The dancers began shaking and then men drinking and boasting. Drogo moved towards Pyrrha but one of his bloodriders put an arm out and looked towards the sky. Pyrrha followed the gaze and blushed.

“Sorry.” She lowered Viserys’ sword so it floated beside her. “May I have the scabbard?” She asked politely. For a moment no one moved, but Dany told Irri to fetch it for her.

Once the scabbard was in Pyrrha’s hands, she sheathed the sword without touching it and laid it on the ground where she would soon sit. _I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t touch the steel or draw blood._ Pyrrha was confident she was fine, but there was a safe doubt that Drogo and the other Dothraki might act against her.

“Pyrrha, move aside.” Came Dany’s voice from behind her. She followed the request and stepped aside, allowing Drogo closer. He embraced his khalessi and ran his hand over her abdomen. Swollen with the stallion that would mount the world.

“Moon of my life.” Drogo grumbled in the common tongue. The rest she did not completely understand, but again, Jorah was there to translate.

“Khal Drogo wishes to reward you for stepping in front of the khalessi. He says to name something, apart from his own horse and her Silver.” Jorah explained.

“Thank you Khal Drogo. I shall think on this… reward.” Pyrrha game a small bow and let the couple leave. Drogo took Dany up to sit beside him, as she would not be threatened by his side.

Pyrrha smiled and returned to the cushions with Jorah and Dany’s handmaidens. Though the darker skinned girls had scolded her for not addressing Dany and Drogo correctly, they both thanked her for protecting their khalessi. Jorah thanked her too but his attention was on Dany as usual. Doreah offered to feed Pyrrha, something the champion found odd but didn’t turn down.

As the feast continued into the night, Pyrrha requested to leave so she could go to sleep. Drogo had no problem with this and Dany thanked her again. Dany gave her permission to take the sword out of the hall too, something that even then, still drew eyes and ill will. _Better me than a defenceless slave taking the weapon and trying something foolish._ She told herself.


	20. Golden Bastards

** Nora **

When Robert left for his hunt, he left Eddard in charge of the realm. Acting the ruler, Ned had the cooperation of the small council and many guards. Baratheon and Stark only, as the tension between himself and the Lannisters was still high, higher still since he had sat on the Iron Throne himself as he passed judgement on the problems the smallfolk and minor nobles brought before him.

Word was that Jamie had fled to his father, Lord Tywin Lannister, the Warden of the West. Then when Eddard got the chance, he “again” publicly attacked the Lannisters. He didn’t raise his sword, only issued commands and stripped a knighthood.

Lord Tywin was said to be raising arms and Eddard instructed a raven sent to him, summoning him to court else he be branded a traitor to the realm. There was also a most convincing description of Gregor Clegane, the Mountain. Attacking and pillaging villages throughout the Riverlands, the lands of Eddard’s Lady wife, Catelyn Tully.

The Lords of the Trident were said to be massing themselves, in reaction to what their scouts and spies told them was happening in the Westerlands. But it was too late for many, as the Mountain had already struck more than a single village and hundreds were dead, raped, maimed and homeless.

The Hand of the King announced that Gregor was stripped of his knighthood, shocking several of those in attendance. Several lords were sent to arrest the man and bring him to face justice. The lords chosen were Lord Beric Dondarrion, [Thoros of Myr](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Thoros_of_Myr), Ser [Gladden Wylde](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Gladden_Wylde) and Lord [Lothar Mallery](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Lothar_Mallery), each of who were to contribute twenty me, along with an additional twenty Winterfell men from Eddard’s own number in King’s Landing, to fight alongside them.

The men that Lord Hoster Tully had sent to King’s Landing were also to return with Lord Beric’s party and assist him in the arrest. Three knights and their small amount of soldiers. Nora knew the Mountain, through sight and reputation but never once had they spoken. He was a giant, almost twice her size and aggressive. She recalled the tourney where he slew his own horse and attempted to murder Ser Loras Tyrell, who Eddard had passed over command to arrest the Mountain in favour of Lord Beric. _I wonder if it is because he is young?_

Days had passed since then and Robert was still not back from his hunt, nor did Tywin appear to be coming to King’s Landing. Word was that his force was still gathering, all the strength of the Westerlands.

It was night when a man of Winterfell came to her with news that the Hand of the King wished to speak with her. She was dressed simply enough, leather boots and light armour atop a green tunic that went past her knees. She threw on a brown hooded cloak to keep herself warm in the night cold and followed the Stark guard to the Hand’s solar.

The man knocked and both waited until Lord Stark’s voice sounded, calling for them to enter. The guard allowed Nora in and then closed the door behind her. _A night meeting with Lord Stark. What could he want now?_ She wondered, walking towards the desk that was before him.

“Please, sit. I’d prefer not to stand with my leg.” Eddard told her, offering her the comfort of a chair. Nora took it and smiled softly.

“You’ve been busy. Word is that Tywin isn’t happy and that Gregor is still on the loose.” She tapped her finger against her elbow as she looked out from beneath the hood.

“Let him wroth, Clegane too.” He offered her some wine but Nora refused. “When Robert returns, things will change Nora. He is a good man, mostly. Harsh to his enemies as you well know.” Nora narrowed her eyes and grumbled as she recalled Daenerys.

“Things won’t change. He’ll drink and whore and plot to kill children.” She removed her hood and sighed heavily. “He’s just a fat man, afraid of people half the world away. It’s lucky you people don’t have planes. Then I’d be worried.”

“Planes?” Asked Eddard.

“They are… imagine a massive bird, but it can carry many people on its back. They say it takes days to cross the Narrow Sea, a plane could do that in hours.” Nora watched Eddard’s expression turn grim.

“Then it is good that these, planes, do not exist. For I fear Robert would then go himself to end the girl.” Eddard still sounded sad when he talked about it, his best friend of old, turned schemer and aimed his plots towards the weak and innocent.

“If he tried, I’d break his legs. Then maybe he’d learn to be a good king as I forced him to sit on the throne.” Nora smiled brightly, but Eddard didn’t return the joy.

“You speak of breaking legs, but I doubt you would do it. You seem far too nice for that kind of thing. Littlefinger also tells me that you’ve moved Robert’s bastard daughter and her mother.” Nora was surprised to hear that, but she had told Littlefinger.

“Who else knows?” She asked.

“Likely Varys, the Master of Whisperers.” Eddard said nonchalantly. Nora didn’t mind this; Varys was one of the first people she met and talked to at long lengths.

“So you, Littlefinger and Varys. That’s not so bad.” She replied.

“They both serve myself and the king. And Cersei will likely find wherever you have sent the girl. You should not have told people that you were planning on moving her.”

“They’re both happier and more comfortable now. I visit them each day and…”

“A good way to reinforce where they are located. Do you have any loyal friends?” Eddard asked, only for Nora to shake her head.

“Friends here are different. Back home I had lots of friends. Here I feel like I’m alone even when I’m in a great castle.” Nora admitted openly.

“There are those closer to your age you know. Ser Loras, even Joffrey is closer to your age than Renly or Robert.” Nora only laughed and waved those notions away. “No love for the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms? Do you think he will let you stay when both Robert and I have gone from this world?” Eddard asked.

“That’s years away. By then I’ll have left by myself. Besides, I’ve heard things about Joffrey. Behind his show of kindness and affection is a liar and spoiled child. Someone I trust has said bad things about him, things only he would know.” Nora wasn’t smiling any more. “He isn’t anything like his father, and the way he talks to those who he thinks lower than him annoys me. I’d punch him in the face if I could.” She had heard that Joffrey had called for a boy to be taken but was killed instead. He even threatened one of Eddard’s daughters. His guards were too loud when they were drunk in the barracks mess hall.

“No love for the King’s family?” Eddard said.

“Oh don’t get me wrong, Tommen and Myrcella are sweet and kind. But Cersei is a bitch, Robert a drunkard and Joffrey sounds like he’d be a terrible king.” It was then that Eddard smiled, and Nora caught sight of it. “Wait a second.” She said.

“Take all the time you need.” Eddard moved to pull a large and old tome in front of him. Nora looked from it to him before questioning.

“Why do you look so smug?”

“To be smug about this would be a sorry thing. I thank the gods that perhaps I might have found someone I can confide in.” He opened the book to the page where Nora seen the name, Baratheon, written far too nicely and largely. “Come around this side and read. I will tell you something that you must swear you will never tell another.”

Nora didn’t like the sound of this, but she did begin moving around to stand beside Eddard and peer down at the book he was so interested in showing her. She read a few lines and realised what it was. Turning her nose up she stretched.

“Why should that book interest me? I just reads like a family history. Are you trying to insult me for not knowing my own?” There was just a hint of bitterness.

“The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms. With Description of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children.” Eddard told her. _And there is no way in hell I am going to remember that stupidly long title._

“Why not just call it Westeros’ Family Trees?” Nora suggested.

“I did not write the book so I cannot name it. But the title isn’t as important as what is written on its pages. Read more and I will begin to explain.” Nora did as Eddard urged and continued reading. _Now I miss history class. Even Weiss._

“As far back as the book goes, there have been Baratheons with black hair and blue eyes. Boy or girl it didn’t seem to matter. The father always dominated his children’s appearance, long ago there was a Baratheon Lord who married a Lady of House Lannister. Together they had children, blue and black mixed with green and gold. Yet it was the blue and black that won out with every child.” Eddard explained as Nora read on and on.

Black over ginger, blonde, silver, grey, gold and even darkened the hair of brown and black hair to the Baratheon jet black. _So… black is there colour like the stag. Black on yellow._ Her mind started working and she thought of Barra. Her mother had light red hair, but Barra’s was as black as Roberts and she had his blue eyes too.

“What are you getting at Lord Stark?” She asked as she finished up, earning a groan from the Hand of the King.

“What colour hair do Robert and Cersei’s children have?”

“Blonde… gold.” She answered.

“And what about the children listen in the book and the previous Lannister gold that was dominated by Baratheon black?” Nora bit her lip and looked to the pages. _Black over gold… black over everything._

“Wait, why do his children have golden hair when even Barra has black like Robert?” Nora asked. Finally, Ned smiled again, faintly.

“Swear to me that you won’t tell a soul. Not Robert, not Varys or Littlefinger. Leave all of that to me.” Eddard was looking at her sternly and Nora nervously nodded, her heart pounding.

“I won’t tell, I swear.” She felt as though something was coming, some dark, concealed.

“I don’t believe that Joffrey, Tommen, or Myrcella are trueborn children of Robert.”

Nora’s eyes remained on the old pages of the book. It was impossible, a king and a queen, it was just that the three children got lucky and were all born with their mother’s golden hair. _Three times in a row… that is lucky, questionably lucky._ Nora decided as she closed the book and straightened herself up.

Walking over to the jug of wine, she poured herself a mug and downed it in one go before pouring a second. This one she nursed, carrying it back to the seat where she had first sat. Her blue eyes found Eddard’s dark grey eyes. She didn’t want to believe it. But the book had shown her otherwise and Eddard wasn’t the type to lie, even she had known that.

“You’ll need more proof than the paper there to convince Robert.” _And me._ Nora said calmly, though her hands were trembling and the wine rippled from the effects.

“I confronted Cersei earlier this evening in the godswood.” Nora’s eyes showed the shock on her face. _You stupid man!_ She wanted to scream. “I accused her and without flinching she answered my question. “Your brother, or your lover?” I had asked her, prayed to the gods that I was wrong, but her answer proved my prayers worthless. “Both.” Was the simple answer, but there is more there if you wish to hear it.”

Nora downed half the wine in her mug and coughed. Leaning back in the chair she looked up at the ceiling and sighed. _No trueborn children. Only bastards that can’t inherit anything. Only bastards that might as well be scattered about the… The Storm at Storms End, Barra too._ She fixed her eyes back on Ned.

“You’re going to tell Robert right? You have to tell Robert. He won’t believe me, but you.” She began tapping her fingers on the table. “You won’t hurt them right? Cersei’s children, they are young and innocent, sure Joffrey is a complete ass, but still a child.”

“No, I will not harm the children. I warned her that upon Robert’s return I would tell him the whole truth. Her and Jamie, the children that aren’t his. I let her know that she had until his return to make the arrangements and leave King’s Landing.” Something about Eddard made him look glum. “Robert won’t stop though. He’ll want to kill Cersei, Jamie, perhaps even his eldest child too.”

“Robert wouldn’t. We would convince him to let things be. They would not be a threat to his throne. Not with the Starks and his champion.” Nora said confidently, but her words didn’t change that sad defeated look that had manifested on his face. “He would tell others too. People would ask why the queen was punished and the children stripped of their place in line to the throne. Once it is revealed… others would see Robert as…” _As what?_

“Perhaps. He might not have killed children in the past, but nor has he done justice to those that have.” Eddard looked weary. “Has anyone told you about the Targaryen royal family, the ones that were in the Red Keep during the end of the rebellion?”

“No… I don’t know much, just some of the stories Robert and Renly have told me. Some stuff that Varys says to observe. What I should be saying when I address all of you, Lords and Ladies.” That didn’t amuse Eddard who sat forwards, elbows on the desk looking right into Nora’s eyes.

“Prince Rhaegar Targaryen had two children in King’s landing. A boy and a girl, the future king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms no doubt. But after Robert’s victory at the Trident, Tywin Lannister arrived at King’s Landing. The Mad King allowed the gates to be opened, what followed was a slaughter. Men and children killed; women raped. Even the royal family wasn’t untouched.” Nora was shaking her head in disbelief.

“Princess Elia and her two children were murdered. It is said that young Rhaenys was stabbed half a hundred times…” Nora felt cold, a child who had done nothing. “… while her younger brother had his head smashed against a wall. They were Tywin’s men, the ones who murdered the babes, but whether or not Lord Tywin had ordered them to do it makes little difference. They, the dead children, were presented to Robert and myself in Lannister red, to hide the blood.” Nora had grown pale from the story and felt ill. She pushed the wine away from herself and looked down at her lap.

“How old?” She mumbled.

“Rhaenys was two or three, Aegon only one or two.” Eddard’s words shocked her to the core, such innocent little people. They hadn’t even had the chance to act wrongly, let along plot. “I told Robert to judge Tywin and his men justly, but he didn’t. “This is war, the blood was in them.” He said. And the rest well… he married Tywin’s daughter, but with Jamie in the Kingsguard they had an affair. And three golden bastards were born of them and named princes and princess.”

_No… no this can’t be happening._ Her mind took her back to the fall of the settlement where she had met Ren and he had saved her. Crying under a raise house she remembered the calm that came over her as he held her close. She was a child, older than Rhaenys but still in no way capable of defending herself. _Creatures of Grimm have no soul, but the people of this world have souls that are black._

She had never been a part of a great war that seen thousands die, the peace that was made after the Great War still held strong even before her birth and she prayed even now after she had been transported to this world by some unknown means, the peace over Remnant still remained. She had never been a part of politics either, she didn’t care for all the lies and secrets that she was learning about in King’s Landing. _Just give me my hammer and I’ll go._ She wanted to say, but she couldn’t just abandon her friends. _I do have friends here… don’t I?_

“Robert’s heir will be Stannis, at least until he marries again and produces a trueborn son.” Eddard told her.

“And why does it have to be a son? A girl can be the heir too you realise.” Nora replied.

“Aye, that is true. But once a son comes of this world she will fall behind him in the succession. But let us talk of Cersei and the Lannisters. Once Robert learns of this deceit he will declare war. The North, Stormlands, Riverlands and Vale will join his side in fighting the Lannisters. But Dorne will likely sit out and the Reach may have to be convinced.” So many places he had named, so much bloodshed.

“Or he could not declare war. He could just…”

“He would appear weak to those that still call him usurper. They may even go over to the Lannister side just to help tear Robert from his stolen throne.” Eddard interrupted, silencing Nora and giving her something more to think about.

“The kingdom sucks. Too many sneaks, too many liars. Who would want to sit on that ugly chair anyway.” It was a rhetorical question and Ned knew not to answer.

“Will you support Robert when the time comes? Will you fight by his side in a war, or at the least act as his personal guard?” Eddard asked.

“I... I’ll need to think about it. What I should do I mean. This isn’t my world… I want to go home.” Her voice wavered and caught in her throat, and Ned suggested she go back to her quarters and rest. Once the king returned she needed to have her answer ready, for Robert’s sake, for the realm’s sake.

Days passed with the court being held by Eddard Stark. Cersei remained in the Red Keep too, though Nora had no knowledge if she was planning to take Ned’s offer and flee before Robert got back. Nora’s own actions were less noticeable, a shadow that was always in the training yard, swinging her hammer around against ghosts. It was pattern training as she couldn’t very well train against guards, not after she had injured one so severely.

Her mind worked over all she had learned and each time she happened a glance of Eddard Stark, she felt cold. A war was coming one way or another, unless she could convince Robert somehow. _I’ll make him an offer when he returns, I’m stronger so he’ll listen, he knows I can best anyone in the world._

It happened some time during the night a few days after Eddard revealed he had discovered Cersei’s children to be the products of incest. It sounded like thunder and shook the door on its hinges. Nora sat up with sleep in her eyes that were quickly rubbed away.

“Who is it?” She called.

“Ser Arys Oakheart. Lady Valkyrie, King Robert requests your presence at once.”


	21. Oaths & Letters

** Ren **

The days at The Wall were long and cold, and even training became boring as Ren had shown his skill and beaten everyone at Castle Black. Newcomer or veteran ranger, Ren had faced and beat them all. Even Ser Alliser Throne had tried to defeat the Otherworlder and failed like the rest. Lord Commander Mormont continued to ask Ren to join the Watch and was respectfully rejected each time.

Ren had no interest in swearing himself to the so called guardians of the realm. He disliked their rules and resented that all crimes could be washed away if someone was to join the Night’s Watch. Criminals, murderers, rapers, and thieves avoiding punishment, taken from the dungeons of major cities and towns. Nobles avoiding scandal, orphans, and other social outcasts such as Jon Snow, a noble bastard. These were the kind of men and boys that manned The Wall, honour seemed lacking to Ren, save for those few who had arrived willingly. Mormont and Snow to name a couple.

He had taken up training with the newer recruits of which Jon also did. Jon had been trained by a Master-at-arms and after talking to Donal had come away with a new attitude. That was back before the large boy showed up, Samwell, but even Jon couldn’t help him use a sword adequately.

Samwell was lucky though, having Jon looking out for him and the friends Jon had made too. Grenn and Pypar had been slower to warm to the large man, but now they broke their fasts together and talked openly. Ren had taken a liking to Samwell too, a boy who loved to read and gather knowledge. Ren was a good student at Beacon and had often spent much time with Sam and the old maester, Aemon the blind.

It was the morning of which the new recruits would be sorted into their roles and said their vows. Ren had gotten up and dressed, his black cloak wrapped around him like every other man of the Watch, only he wasn’t one. Though none now openly challenged him to take it off, he knew there were cold eyes constantly upon him.

“Can I still not convince you to take our vows?” Came the gruff voice belonging to the Lord Commander. Ren half turned and waited for the Old Bear to meet him before they strode side by side towards the sept, an old and cold building to pray to the Seven.

“I’m afraid not, my lord. I have no interest in the vows, yet I will remain here until I have a good reason to leave. I will help the Watch however I can, but I will not join it.” Ren said for the fifth time that week.

“Pity, the Watch could use more skilled and educated men such as yourself.” The old bear said, sounding disappointed that he could not sway the young man.

“There are plenty in this new batch, Samwell and Jon for a certainty.” Ren responded, giving his honest view. He could see their use and a few others too. They stopped before they entered the sept and Mormont put a hand on his shoulder.

“I was hoping to give these to a man of the Night’s Watch.” He reached inside his cloak and pulled out two daggers, blades hidden within the scabbards. “Donal finished them a couple of days ago.”

Ren took the daggers and pulled one out. The blade was longer than even a large knife, but thicker, stronger, sharp on both edges too. He sheathed it and gave a bow to the Lord Commander.

“Thank you, my lord. I shall make good use of these should the time come.” Ren said, though he had never needed to kill anyone and from what he knew of the Watch they only killed rarely.

“There is one more thing too. A letter came in the night, Maester Aemon cannot read but it bears the Stark sigil that sealed the wax.” _Sealed, meaning you’ve opened it and read the contents._

“The Starks have written a letter to me? I don’t know anyone down there.” Ren told him truthfully.

“Apparently you do.” He withdrew the letter and handed it to Ren who looked at the direwolf sigil melted into red wax. “Read it after the names have been read, you can decide what to do after that.” Mormont said as he strode into the Sept.

Ren near opened it the moment Mormont was gone, but after being gifted two new blades he decided to honour the Old Bear’s request. He filtered into the sept and stood alongside the wall. He fastened his new belt around his waist, showing those around him that he had been given newly forged steel. But no one said a word as Mormont stood before the alter.

“You came to us as outlaws, poachers, rapers, debtors, killers, and thieves. You came to us as children. You came to us alone, in chains, with neither friend nor honour. Some of you bear the names of proud houses, others have only bastard names or no names at all. None of that matters now, it is past. On the Wall we are one house, one family.”

Mormont’s speech went on and on, explaining what it meant to be a man of the Watch. How their crimes were washed away, how they were sworn for the duration of their lives however long or short they might be, to defend the realms of men. They were to forget their old families, loved ones, children if they had any. Ren knew this was impossible, one of the reasons he disliked the vows the men were made to swear and sometimes, unfairly keep.

Their only loyalty was to the Watch, they would never take a girl to their beds or start a family. They would live to serve the realm and nothing more. Ren was told how much honour there was in the Night’s Watch, but he couldn’t see it behind all the criminals that filled the ranks. _Perhaps a thousand years ago it was still considered an honour. But not anymore._

Once the vows were said there was no turning back, as desertion meant death, execution by the Night’s watch if caught or by the next lord that happened upon them. It was an easy choice Tyrion had told him. Life or death, a man could still find honour at the Watch, somehow.

“Do any of you keep to the old gods?” Mormont’s voice rang out. Ren had learned that the Faith of the Seven was the dominant faith on Westeros, yet others still lingered and prayed to the old gods, them being the next largest following.

“I do, my lord.” Jon said as he stood from his bench.

“I expect you will want to say your words before a heart tree, as your uncle did?” Mormont questioned. Ren had met Benjen Stark a couple of times, spoken briefly once but didn’t know much of the man.

“Yes, my lord.” Jon said plainly.

“Castle black had no need of a godswood. Beyond the Wall the haunted forest stands as it stood in the Dawn Age, long before the Andals brought the Seven across the narrow sea. You will find a grove of weirwoods half a league from this spot, and mayhap your gods as well.” Mormont told him and everyone else. _I have to go with him, see what is on the other side of this great wall._

“My lord.” The voice was soft and timid, one that Ren and apparently Jon recognised immediately. “Might I… go as well? To say my words at this heart tree?” The fat boy Samwell asked.

“Does house Tarly keep the old gods too?” Mormont questioned.

“No, my lord. I was named in the light of the Seven at the sept on Horn Hill, as my father was and his father back for a thousand years.” Samwell told them all.

“Why would you forsake the gods of your father and your house?” said a bewildered Jaremy Rykker.

“The Night’s Watch is my House now. The Seven have never answered my prayers. Perhaps the old gods will.” Sam said with a small smile. _Well said Sam._ Ren found himself thinking, and no one could argue against such words.

Sam took his seat again with Pyp whispering to him. Then Mormont began reading out where each of the men would be going. There were only three options, builders, stewards, or rangers. Ren had figured out where Jon and Sam were going, but as the names were called, Jon was said to go to the stewards, something that surprised Ren. _It is not my place to speak out._ He reminded himself.

“Your firsts will instruct you in your duties. May all the gods preserve you, brothers.” The Lord Commander favoured them with a half-bow and took his leave.

Ren left the rundown sept with the rest of them, being one of the first out the door. His destination was the Tower of the Guards where he ascended the stairway all the way to the top. Once there he reached into his cloak and pulled out the letter that Mormont had given him before he welcomed their new brothers to the order.

The seal had been broken, that much was clear even before he had been handed it. The Lord Commander had wanted to see what was inside, as was his right as the commander. Still, it agitated Ren a little, messages were supposed to be private and one could get in trouble for opening mail or letters meant for someone else, at least on his world of Remnant.

Unrolling the letter, he readied himself to find out just who it was that knows who he is.

Hello there Ren, before I start I just want you to know that it is Weiss Schnee who is writing to you. If you need proof, Jaune called me the Ice Queen and I often called Ruby a dolt. The people of this world do not have either an aura or a semblance and are far less advanced that we on Remnant. Further proof will require us to meet in person. I am not too far away in the castle of Winterfell, home of House Stark. A man, dwarf, passed through here and revealed that you were at The Wall. I have many doubts that is even truly you, the dwarf could have been lying to try and get my favour. Perhaps if you reply you can tell me something that no one of this world will know, something that I failed to mention earlier.

Ren, I wondered what I should do since finding out you were also of this world. I wanted to rush to you, but someone also made an attempt on a child’s life here at Winterfell. Twice in fact. One attempt was when he was recovering from a fall and the other more recently was when he was out with his brother and their wolves. The boy is Brandon Stark, and with him being threatened I feel as though I should remain with the Starks at least a while longer to help protect him. I hope to see you soon, I know it might sound strange from me, the Schnee heiress who is often harsh and critical, but I need a friend, now more than ever.

I shall keep you updated on what goes on down here and if I find anyone else we might know. So long as you can provide proof enough that you are indeed my friend, Lie Ren. If not then this will be the only time you hear from me.

Tell Jon Snow that his brothers miss him and that he better be improving with his swordsmanship.

Your friend,

Weiss Schnee.

The letter ended with a symbol that Weiss had on her clothing and her family had on all its products. The Schnee family emblem. Ren held the letter before him, a feeling of relief, joy, and finally sadness washed over him as he blinked away a few tears. Weiss and he were never really that close, but their teams were like siblings. They ate together and sat together in class. Ruby and Jaune were their leaders and often spent time together planning out team exercises.

Weiss was his friend and one that he was glad to have. She was intelligent and skilled; her control of Dust was most impressive too. Sure she was a bit strict, but that came from her family. The Schnees were a wealthy and powerful family, controlling a large majority of all the Dust sales on Remnant.

_What should I write to her about? Shall I head south immediately?_ He wondered, but then thought back to his gifts. Two brand new blades hung from his sides, gifts from the Lord Commander. He respected the man enough and didn’t want to appear ungrateful. _I could simply return the daggers… no. No I should at least serve for a time. Pay him back for the gift._

He took his time to think about his options as he looked south from the tower he remained in. Winterfell was a castle to the south where Jon Snow had grew up in. _Snow… She wrote like she knew him._ Ren descended the tower this time and made for Master Aemon’s room where he politely requested that he have paper, ink and a quill so that he could write back his friend.

Aemon was happy to lend him the items he required but asked for something Ren thought was simple enough. He was to ask Weiss to ask the Lord of Winterfell if there were any resources and/or manpower that he could send north to assist the Night’s Watch. Ren promised to include the request in his letter to Weiss and wrote it. Sealed with the Night’s Watch seal, he handed it to Maester Aemon who had Sam help him get to the ravens and send it south.

Once they returned Ren requested that he go beyond The Wall with Sam, Jon, and whoever else was making the trip to the weirwoods. Aemon told him that it was up to the Lord Commander and the firsts that were going beyond. Ren figured they would allow him to go with them, a fighter as good as him would help greatly if they were set upon, as unlikely as it was.

It was late afternoon when they all set out. They passed through the only gate at Castle Black, a narrow tunnel that was cut through the ice centuries, thousands of years ago. It twisted and turned and had three iron barred gates with arrow slits before they reached the final gate that Bowen Marsh unlocked. As they all mounted their horses, Jon whistled for Ghost, his white direwolf with red eyes. He didn’t stick around long before racing across the weed-choked field and vanishing amongst the forest.

As they entered, Ren thought about the Emerald Forest near Beacon and looked back at The Wall. He smiled to himself as he recalled Ozpin’s test. He launched them all from the top of a cliff after giving instructions once, that way he wouldn’t have to answer any questions. _Listen to what is spoken, and then ask if you can._

The sun was already beginning to sink below the trees when the party stumbled upon the weirwood trees. Their leaves and sap were ruby-red, while the bark on their wide trunks and wood were bone white. All weirwoods had faces carved into their trunks and it appeared as though they were weeping.

There were nine of them in the hidden grove, nine weirwoods with their tears frozen ruby red. Ren dismounted and walked closer, slowly. He did not know what these trees could do, if they could do anything.

“This is a sacred place; we will not defile it.” Bowen Marsh ordered.

“They’re watching us.” Sam commented as he looked about the strange faces. _It feels that way true enough._

“Yes, the old gods.” Jon replied softly, going before the greatest of the nine and kneeling in the snow. Ren returned to stand by the rangers, keeping silent as the two boys said their vows. Ren understood what it meant, at least parts of it anyway.

“Hear my words and bear witness to my vow.” They began in sync. Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honour to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.” Jon and Sam were almost perfectly timed throughout the entire oath, and when they finished it was Bowen Marsh who broke the silence.

“You knelt as boys. Rise now, as men of the Night’s Watch.” He commanded.

Jon helped Sam to his feet and the two friends embraced one another. Ren smiled and let the men of the Watch congratulate their new members. All save for one of the elder men.

“Best we head back. Dark’s falling and there’s something in the smell o’ the night I mislike.” Dywen said.

Ren remounted before the rest of them, but his horse spooked as Ghost returned from the shadows. Ren managed to rein the horse in and calm the beast. Ghost’s white fur made him blend in very well in these conditions. _He looked like the trees. White and red, mobile and…_ His eyes narrowed as he realised the direwolf was carrying something.

“What’s he got there Snow?” Bowen asked.

“To me Ghost.” Jon knelt down once more and reached for whatever the direwolf had but snatched his hand back as Ghost went to drop the object in it.

“Gods be good, that’s a hand.” One of the men breathed.

Ren didn’t know who said it, but silence fell upon the group as they stared at the limb. _Where did he get that… who did he get it from?_ Ren found himself wondering, his pink eyes scanning the forest as he activated his aura. The defence that none of the brothers had, a shield that was invisible and very protective from blade and bullet.

* * *

**What?! A Ren chapter out of nowhere? I hope you guys enjoyed, even though it was pretty short. Just glad to be building up to some interesting points in the story.**


	22. Baratheon Fury

** Nora **

Nora followed Arys Oakheart through the Red Keep. He led her towards the King’s own chambers. _There are a lot of guards here. A lot of yellow and green._ White too, as they passed many members of the Kingsguard on their way to the room. The sight that shocked her the most was Barristan Selmy in his white armour smeared with crimson. _No… he’s ok right?_ He prayed, even though she was still conflicted about how to feel about Robert.

“Your Grace, I have brought Lady Valkyrie as…”

“Send her in.” Came a pained voice from within and Arys stepped aside. Nora went through the door wearing what little she had put on. It had sounded urgent so she had gone barefoot and simply grabbed a gown and a thick cloak that she wrapped around herself. It might have be a castle where she was surrounded by high lords and royalty, but Nora wasn’t the kind to worry so much about what they thought. She could knock them all down if needed.

Warmth hit her in the face as both the hearths were alight, their warm glows adding light to the room that was littered with candles. There was a stench to it too, one that Nora knew well enough from cuts and wounds. Blood was in the air and King Robert lay atop his large bed.

Grand Maester Pycelle was near him, Cersei sat on the edge of the bed showing what affection she could for the man she called husband. Renly was in the room too, pacing by the window until he caught sight of Nora. His smile was quicker to appear, and quicker still to vanish. _Renly… Lie Ren… it’s so close. He’s handsome too._

“Come over here, girl.” Robert called from his bed. And Nora obeyed, walking towards one side, the opposite from Cersei. _He’s hurt, stupid fat man._

“And who managed to harm my trainee?” Nora teased. Robert began to laugh but it ended in a groan.

“Don’t make me laugh girl… it’s more painful than I care to admit.” Robert informed her. _No doubt. To lay a man of your strength to bed._

“It was a boar. A boar mangled my dear brother.” Renly was still in his hunting greens as were a few of the others Nora had seen outside the bedroom. Like Barristan, red ruined his clothing.

“It was a devil.” Robert’s voice was husky and pained. “My fault, it was my own fault.” He admitted, moving a little.

“Your Grace… You should not be moving. You could undo the stitching.” Pycelle warned.

“Curse these stitches… curse that boar. Ned, where is Ned?” He growled.

The sound of a cane could be heard clanking along the stone outside the room. They all knew it was Ned since he had needed the Cane to walk on his own. The result of an encounter with Ser Jaime. _Well this should be interesting._ Nora readied herself for what Ned might say, Cersei was still there and Robert had returned. Would he spill what he knew before all in the room or hold his tongue for a time as Nora had chosen the latter of the options.

The man entered the room wearing a white linen tunic and a grey cloak, his trousers were cut open to allow for his plastered leg to slip through. He even had time to put his badge of office on, and a dagger with a rather nice hilt on it, the one that was on his desk when he told her about his discovery. _Maybe I should have taken some time to make my appearance more acceptable._ She felt almost naked in what little she had slipped over her form.

“Ned, what took you?” Robert asked.

“Your Grace… I was abed when you summoned me.” Ned glanced around the room and then back to Robert. “What happened?” They explained how it was a boar once more and how Robert was at fault. The wine was the reason as Nora and Ned both discovered.

“Where was Ser Barristan and the rest of the Kingsguard?” Ned demanded an answer and Renly gave it.

“My brother commanded us to stand aside. He wanted to take the boar alone.”

Ned went around Nora who moved but stayed close enough to see the wound as Ned lifted the blanket. The boar had ripped him from hip to halfway to his armpit. The Maester had stitched it like he had said but the bruising and foul smell. Seeing it made Nora more concerned than earlier. _It’s ok, people survive way worse than that._ She told herself as Eddard let the blanket fall and cover the wound and blood stained bandages.

“Stinks, don’t it.” Robert rasped, his face contorting in pain. “Paid him back though, big fuckin’ thing.” He smiled though his teeth were red. Nora walked over to the maester and spoke softly.

“Does he have internal bleeding?” Pycelle looked shocked but he nodded quickly enough. “Then did you fix it? Did you stitch up his insides?” Nora whispered more aggressively this time.

“Y-Yes, I did what I could. Only the gods can now decide his fate.” The maester answered. _The gods, fuck the gods, and this old man._

“Robert, my sweet lord…” Cersei said.

“I said leave.” There was a fierceness in Robert’s voice. _What did I miss?_ “All of you.”

Cersei went first, Renly behind her and Nora following him. She had questions for him, concerning Barra and Robert’s will, if he had one. _A king should have one right? Does this world have wills?_

“Nora! Not you girl, stay. Bear witness as my champion.” Robert ordered, though he was even less intimidating with each passing minute. Pycelle offered him milk of the poppy and Robert took it, downing it without hesitation.

“That will make your recovery less painful, Your Grace.” Pycelle croaked.

“I know what the milk does, now leave.” Robert growled. Nora waited until the maester passed her before going to shut the door. Outside she saw Barristan and Arys.

“Make sure no one listens.” She told them before sealing the room.

“Damn you Robert. Why do you always have to be so headstrong?” Ned asked as he took a seat on the king’s bed. There was sweat on his brow, the effort of moving with a still healing leg.

“Ah, fuck you Ned.” A lock of black hair fell across his eyes as he glared up at his old friend. “Couldn’t leave a man to hunt in peace, Ser Robar found me. Gregor’s head, thought I told you to end this business with the Lannisters?”

“Aye, I sent the bird, but I haven’t received news for Cat. And Gregor has begun raids on the Riverlands. Lord Tywin’s orders or not, I mean to have him brought to justice.” Ned said sternly.

“A war between the wolf and the lion… I know not which to put my forces behind. Cersei is a Lannister, my child half Lannisters, Ned.” _All Lannister, bastards born of incest._ Nora looked to Eddard but he didn’t say it either.

“Would have been half Stark.” Eddard said sombrely.

“Lyanna.” Robert said with tears weakening those hard eyes.

“We could still make it so.” Eddard suggested. “Legitimise one of you bastard boys and we’ll wed he to my Sansa. The stag and the wolf.” His smiled was half-hearted.

“And what of Joff, my other boy and girl? Think they’ll put their claim aside?” Robert chuckled until it turned to a wince.

“They will fall into the line of succession, if you choose a bastard older than Joff.” Eddard answered. _Does he want to spare his friend the knowledge he discovered?_

“You’d have to find one first, and even then it would spell war. War… I’m not as young or as strong as I used to be.” Robert said drearily.

“You have the North, the Crownlands, the Riverlands, Vale too and obviously the Stormlands. The Reach could be brought into the fold too.” Eddard told the wounded king who looked like his head was hurting from this talk.

“Dorne, the Westerlands. There is no love between them. Five against one, even if the Reach were to declare for the Westerlands, we would still have the numbers.” Robert seemed to be weighing up his options.

“You’re not too old either. Lord Stark might have a broken leg, you a laceration from a boar. Time will heal these and I can train you both.” Nora said without thinking.

“I should send you away, girl. This is dangerous talk.” Robert said, pointing towards the door.

“No, she knows other things that are more dangerous than the talk of war.” Eddard said. Robert looked at him and frowned but lowered his hand.

“No harm would come to the children?” Robert asked. “Joff is cruel, but my girl and Tommen are both young and gentle.”

“No harm would come to them Robert. Once it would be done, we can sort out who will command The Rock.” Eddard said, though Nora knew that none of Cersei’s children would take that role, the were born of incest and the Westerosi laws did not look kindly on that. Save for the old dragonlords.

“Leave me then, I need to rest, and to think upon this.” He coughed and rubbed his throat.

“As you wish, Your Grace.” Eddard said.

“Ned, the girl, Daenerys.” Nora became cold, this was a touchy subject for all in the room. “Just a child, same as mine. The gods sent the boar as a warning, spare the girl, spare her my follies.” Robert explained sorrowfully. “Varys, Littlefinger, even my brother… worthless. Only you, you, Nora, and old Barristan.”

Nora felt a tear slip from her cheek and had to sniffle. There was her friend, the one she had come to know and respect. Not the tyrant who ordered hits on girls with babes in their bellies.

“The gentler sex oft comes to cry. Good tears I pray.” Robert questioned with Nora smiling and nodding. “Good.”

“Now I won’t have to break your legs.” Robert hooted for just a moment before the pain took him again.

“Ned, send Pycelle in. I need more milk of the poppy, something to help me sleep perhaps.” Eddard nodded and began to walk to the door, his cane striking the ground as he went.

“Wait!” Nora shouted. “Robert, do you have a will?”

“A will?” He replied.

“Something you write that give people possessions or command over things if you die.” Nora said anxiously. Robert remained silent while Eddard spoke up, not because they didn’t know what it was, but because of what was suggested, potential death.

“It could be wise thing to do, in case the wound…” Eddard started.

“Alright, alright. Ned, paper and ink, write what…”

“I can do it!” Nora said and walked over, grabbing the paper and ink, prepared to write down the king’s words. “I can write, on my world its strange if a person can’t write.” She said with a smile.

“This is the will and word of Robert of House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and… Ned, you know how it goes. Speak for me in this regard too.” Robert ordered as he went back to resting. Once the titles had ben done, Robert began once more. “I hereby command Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King, to serve as the Lord Regent and Protector of the Realm upon my death. To rule in my stead, until my son… Ned.” Robert stopped.

“Your Grace?” Eddard responded.

“You want me to legitimise a bastard, to declare on the side of House Stark should it come to war. Tell me, why.” His eyes were firm and set and Eddard had to tell him. Nora could feel the tension and see the look on Eddard’s face.

“Bran was not pushed. He’s been climbing since he could walk and hadn’t fallen for years. Only when your horde of followers came to Winterfell did he fall.” Eddard leaned on the desk where the letter was. “Catelyn believes he saw something, someone pushed him from the tower and left him for dead at the base. Then as he rested, recovered, someone sent a man of low birth to end him, fearful that he saw something perhaps?” His question was rhetorical. “He lives, breathes, eats now, what matters is the owner of that blade.” Nora listened closely as did Robert. Ned drew that very blade from his side and looked it over. “Littlefinger was its past owner, but he lost in a bet, to one Tyrion Lannister.” He finished.

“The Imp? That is why you ordered her to take him.” Robert’s mind wasn’t completely his own, yet he was still able to link things together. “No wonder you disobeyed my command. Ned, please accept my apology.”

“You did not know, and now you do. Will you sign, just in case?” Eddard said.

“To rule in my stead, until my…rightful heir, comes of age.” Robert said with a faint smile. “That should handle it.”

“Anything else you want to add?” Eddard asked his friend.

“I… have a request.” Nora said, turning in her seat. “Barra.”

“For fucks sake… Nora…”

“She’s zero! Literally a baby with nothing. If you’re going to legitimise a bastard boy older than Joffrey then why not her too? I mean… at the very least you could marry her off in twenty years.” Not that Nora intended to let him, the laws of this world annoyed her.

“By that meaning you’d have me legitimise my other female bastards.” Robert joked.

“Tell me their names and I’ll write them down.” Nora responded without hesitating. Eddard just laughed.

“Watch it Ned, I’ll legitimise that bastard boy of yours if you’re not careful.” Robert warned.

“I’d thank you not to, he is too close to Robb’s age.” Eddard said uncomfortably.

“Mya Stone.” Robert grumbled.

“Your… your firstborn?” Eddard sounded shocked.

“What of it. She was a good girl. I haven’t seen her in too long. Eddard, you’ll send a letter to the Eyrie asking for her to come to King’s Landing.” Robert commanded. “And this bastard boy, who is he?”

“His name is Gendry; he is a few years older than Joffrey and is already in the city.” Eddard revealed. Robert didn’t look too pleased though. They were talking about upsetting the current balance of Westeros and upsetting the wealthiest family, one that Robert owed a lot to. But his friendship to Eddard won out.

“Write the letters Nora. I’ll sign them all.” Robert growled. “But then I want peace, and neither of you are to reveal these until I say so or I end up dead. Which I don’t intend to be, too much seems to be happening. I did tell you a war was coming Ned.” He smirked.

Nora began writing the letters, starting each of the letters that was to legitimise a bastard the same way Robert had started when he had her write out his will. This is the will and word of Robert of House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and all the rest that Eddard had continued from. His rightful heir was to be his eldest male in Gendry, someone Nora already knew she would have to look out for. But there was a letter for both Barra Rivers, though usually the lord had to acknowledge them. Nora didn’t care about that rule and had referred to her as a Baratheon even before she wrote the letter. The last was for one Mya Stone. Three letters that would raise each of them higher than most would approve. They would be Baratheons three, rightful and trueborn children of Robert Baratheon while the others were revealed and denounced as children of incest and given the name Waters instead.

She made three copies of each in silence, save for the scribbling of the quill against the parchment. One for herself and two for Eddard. He had more power than her and if needed he could send the signed and wax sealed letters off to another Lord. Each were signed by Robert, Eddard, and Nora in turn. _Not that many people will even know who I am._

She left with Eddard who sent in Grand Maester Pycelle as the king had earlier requested. The wound was already a couple of days old, the maester told them as they left. It had taken that long for Robert to return from the hung and to have a Pycelle tend him. But he seemed healthy enough, strong enough to talk and swear and command. _I’ve decided to make changes in this world. I can’t just leave if the chances arises. Not since it was my idea to legitimise his girls._

“See that no one disturbs him unless he asks for them or I give permission, in person.” Eddard told the Kingsguard members, but mostly Barristan.

“Excuse me, I need to be going. I need to see someone.” Nora said, giving a small bow and leaving. She heard them all begin talking again but they soon faded. He destination was the house she had set Barra and her mother up in.

The woman had been most gracious and thankful that the king had set up such a place for them to live at. Nora didn’t tell her that is was her own coin that secured the place, but now she had the paper from Robert himself declaring Barra his legitimised daughter, giving her the Baratheon name. Though she would withhold that information from the mother, until Robert decided to act.

Varys had informed her that both he and Littlefinger had spies set up around the home, so the mother and daughter weren’t truly safe. Varys was more slippery than Nora knew, and Littlefinger even more so. She knew him as Master of Coin yet knew little more of the man other than he had offered to help. It was only Varys warning that made her hesitate.

She spent the rest of the day there, away from the Red Keep, away from everyone planning and plotting. She played with the baby and reassured the mother that one day soon, their futures would change again. Not once did she hint about Barra being taken in, the mother as a concubine, the potential of war. The mother and daughter were finally safe, or as safe as they could be without Nora stirring things up and causing trouble.

It was shortly after breaking her fast the next morning that Nora was interrupted by a Stark guard and asked to attend the Hand of the King in his solar. She was told to dress in her armour, bring her hammer and be prepared, but for what, even the guard did not know. Donning her Baratheon themed armour, Nora slipped the papers into her chest binders. “Hide them well.” Eddard had warned her, and a better place Nora could not think.

When she arrived she was met with several sets of eyes. Eddard, Varys, Petyr and Barristan. Barristan was in his white armour and cloak, cleaned from the previous day. Varys in a wash of lavender pink and slippers which Nora always liked. Petyr was in blue velvets with a silver cape. It was all of the small council save for Renly. Ser Barristan was about to open a letter and Nora froze. It had the Baratheon seal. _Only after I die… he said that._ She had only seen him yesterday, alive and well enough, tended to and seemingly on the mend. Though wounds can quickly turn sour. She stepped forwards suddenly when Eddard spoke.

“Nora.” She froze, all eyes on her. “He’s gone. He passed in the night. Pycelle confirmed it.” Eddard’s tone was tired, almost as tired as the look on his face. He needed a rest; he had little since his run in with Jamie Lannister where his leg was broken.

“How? He looked so strong.” Nora said with a voice that showed her sadness as she fought back the urge to shed tears.

“The wound could have pestered before… he arrived and I could see him. Perhaps his strength left him once he slept?” Pycelle offered, stroking his rather long white beard. Nora wanted a better answer, needed one before Eddard spoke again.

“Ser Barristan, you would continue.” Spurred on my Eddard’s request, Barristan did continue and opened the unbroken seal of King Robert and divulged the contents of the letter to everyone in the room.

It was something Nora already knew and the looks on the other small council members showed that at least a couple weren’t completely surprised. Nora noted Varys and Littlefinger were the least surprised. It was only his will, the letters to legitimise his bastards weren’t presented by Robert’s Hand.

“I would ask the council to confirm me as Lord Protector, as Robert wished.” But before any of them could confirm this action, the door to the solar opened and a man was pushed aside by another who looked rather proud.

“Esteemed lords, the king demands the immediate presence of his small council in the throne room.” Nora didn’t move, nor did any of the council.

“The king is dead.” Eddard stated. “But we shall go with you nonetheless. Tom, assemble an escort if you would.”

Littlefinger gave Ned an arm to lean on for support while the rest of the small council fell in behind them. Nora was at the rear, the shortest of the lot. A double column of men-at-arms in chainmail and steel helms was waiting outside the tower. _There are only eight? But why am I too wearing armour?_ Nora wondered. King Robert was dead, she still couldn’t believe it, yet his son, apparent son, Joffrey had already declared himself king. Things weren’t going the way Eddard had planned with Robert, though perhaps confronting the queen in front of everyone would work as they could still raise Gendry to be a Baratheon.

As they made their way towards the Great Hall, the bells tolled for the death of the king, letting everyone in King’s Landing know that the monarch had passed from the world. It would also allow for riders to be sent out to all parts of Westeros.

Then there were the gold cloaks, their cloaks made of heavy wool and dyed gold giving them their name. They wore mail armour with iron spears, dirks, with Nora occasionally spotting a longsword on a hip. They were the guards of King’s Landing, though they were not soldiers. The oaken doors banded with bronze creaked opened, the Great Hall extended before them. As they walked even Nora could see the Iron Throne, as tall as it was it made the men guarding either side look small. _Aegon’s thousand swords._ Nora reminded herself. Varys had told her the tale of how it was forged after the great conquest the had forged Westeros’ kingdoms into a single, almost all-encompassing realm. Dorne had only joined through marriage much later.

They came to a stop with Nora stepping around the side to get a better look. Five Kingsgaurds formed a crescent around the base of the throne, decked out from head to toe in the armour. Only Jamie Lannister and Barristan Selmy weren’t there, but Barristan was close to Ned.

Cersei was there, Tommen and Myrcella beside her. Joffrey was atop the throne acting the king, and the Hound who wore a snarling dogs’-head helm with soot-grey plate armour was the closest man to the throne, Joffrey’s loyal dog. He was the tallest man in the room, perhaps the strongest next to herself and Barristan. Twenty or more guards in red stood behind the throne, hands on their hilts and visors pulled. _They’re ready for a fight._ She realised.

“I command the council to make all necessary arrangements for my coronation. I wish to be crowned within the fortnight. Today I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal councillors.” The boy-king announced from atop the throne.

“Ser Barristan, no man here could ever question your honour.” Eddard responded, pulling out the paper he had Barristan read out in the council meeting.

“This was unbroken until I read it before, Your Grace.” Barristan announced before rereading it for all in the Great Hall to hear. Every word, Eddard Stark as the Protector of the Realm until the _heir_ came of age. Nora smiled at that, Gendry was already legitimised as were two of Robert’s female children. Barristan finished yet everyone was silent, all save for Cersei.

Cersei asked Barristan to take the letter to her, which she at least read. _Time to stand down Cersi, time to let Eddard and I get Robert’s real children on the throne._ But as she looked about, tearing called her eyes back to the queen, and the paper that fluttered to the ground.

“Was that meant to be your shield, my lord? A piece of paper?” Cersei’s smirk was one that Nora hadn’t seen often, but in that moment she wanted nothing more than to turn it upside-down.

“Those were the king’s words.” Barristan said, shocked.

“We have a new king now.” Cersei declared, gesturing to the golden-haired boy on the throne. _Robert’s throne, the Baratheon thone._ “Lord Stark, when last we spoke you gave me counsel. Allow me to return the favour. Bend the knee, bend the knee and swear fealty to my son and we shall allow you to step down as Hand and return to that waste you call home.”

“Would that I could, Your Grace.” Eddard addressed her properly but his voice was grim. “But your son has no claim on the throne, no more than the other two. Robert’s heir…”

“Liar!” Joffrey screamed from atop the throne.

“Mother, what does he mean?” The little princess Myrcella asked. _We don’t hurt the children, never the children, even Robert agreed on that._ But he never knew they weren’t his.

“You condemn yourself. Ser Barristan, seize the traitor.” Eddard’s men moved forwards, blocking Barristan from their lord.

“Ser Barristan is a good man, a loyal man! Do him no harm.” Eddard ordered. Barristan and Eddard’s men-at-arms halted. Cersei remarked something and then several more swords were heard rasping as they were drawn.

“Kill him!” The boy-king screamed. “Kill them all! I command it!”

“You leave me no choice.” Eddard sounded very tired, yet at the same time sad and confident. “Commander, take the queen and her children into custody. Do them no harm, but escort them back to the royal apartments and keep them under guard… I want no bloodshed. Tell your men to lay down their swords, and no one needs to die.” Nora smiled beneath her helm. _Honourable, Robert was right, he is a good man._

It was all to go so well from there, the gold cloaks would secure the queen and her children, the Lannister guards too. The was to be no bloodshed, but the sound of steel sliding through flesh ripped past her ear, Nora even took a jab from a spear but her aura shielded her.

She reached for her hammer as one man fell, then another, and a third until all of the Stark men-at-arms were dead or fighting against men they thought on their side. Another found his way at Nora who had instinctively reached for her hammer had found it and sidestepped the thrust of the spear before crushing the man’s face with her hammer. He fell to the floor, a sprawl of flesh and metal, his golden cloak coming to a still.

“Kill the knight!” Screamed the commander and several more men fell upon Nora. Gold and red cloaks whirled as Nora danced about. Groans of pain could be heard amidst the distant bells that continued to toll. But not a single groan came from Nora who was simply evading every thrust, or near enough. The ones that connected either couldn’t get through her aura or snapped because of it. Then more groans and scream came as one leg bent backwards, another had the bones splinter sideways through his skin and even the leather. One gold cloak had his head rotated so he could see behind him and a red cloak had his neck snapped where it dangled before he fell. The Hound had joined the fight too and Lord Stark’s men were swiftly defeated, leaving Nora alone, surrounded.

More than a dozen had fallen before three of the Kingsguard were on her, white cloaks of the great knights, shields and scaled armour that everyone adored rushed at her. They were more skilled than the gold and red cloaks for sure, but against Nora they were still outclassed. Sword thrusts and slashes were dodged or parried and when one tried to circle to flank her she backed off and smashed the ground with her hammer. The stone cracked and the three became weary.

“Kill her!” The boy-king cried out again as the rest held place, leaving the Kingsguard members to slay the Baratheon champion. Nora’s eyes flicked to Barristan who was standing still. _He doesn’t know which to choose._ She realised as a blade hissed past her eyes.

She lurched to the side, bringing her hammer from left to right as she moved on one of the white knights. He was quick enough to pull his shield in close, but Nora glanced her blow and staggered him as she performed a practiced spin, smashing it into his lower back. The knight got air as he was flung across the room and into a pillar. Blood covered both where he’d struck and the man’s face. He did not rise.

There was a scream from near the throne yet the two remaining knights went on the assault again. Nora was able to handle this two on one assault much more easily, parry, dodge, leg sweep and when the knight landed belly up, Nora used all her strength to bring the blunt side of her hammer down. The blow echoed and the blood spurted up onto her helm and armour. She had dented, cracked and ruined the armour causing a loud splintering sound, one look at the man and she knew he was just a corpse. _Just like when Robert crushed Rhaegar’s breastplate._

Death was an old friend of Nora, the Nevermores and Beowolves, that great beast of a Grimm that attacked Ren’s village where she happened to be, where they met. Ren had saved her that day like on many future occasions, but not before her memory was scarred. The screams and images had plagued her as a child and only after years of Ren’s comfort did she finally manage to treat sleep as a friend again. She had seen worse than coughed up blood and cracked armour, a bloody pace and the stillness of human dead. Grimm didn’t stop there, they tore limbs and people apart, many were still alive as the Grimm began to devour them, dark mouths with so many sharp and pointed dagger that tore flesh and muscle from the bone.

The last knight had a scared look in his eyes. _I wonder what mine look like?_ She wondered as slammed her hammer at his chest only for it to be caught against a pillar. _Fuck._ Cursing herself she heard and felt the steel of his sword graze the armour Robert had given her. _Careless!_ She had meant to finish it there and give her aura a rest, but instead she left herself open. Nora wound up again, but this time she pulled the trigger. The explosive boost was more than enough to breech the kingsguard’s defence and deafen those not used to the sound, everyone in the room safe for herself.

Magnhild crash through the side of the pillar, scattering the broken marble into several gold cloaks like shrapnel from grenades. Many guards and soldiers fell to their knees groaning, some probably even dead. But it was the knight that took the worst of it, Magnhild found his cheek and his head twisted so violently that by the time it spun around for Nora to look at again, his expression had changed and his eyes dimmed. The skin of his neck was so taut the his head began to turn before he fell.

He fell to the floor along with his two brothers before him. Their bodies clad in white steel lay there bloodied or broken or both. Nora stood in the centre of the room and not a single soul dared approach. She found the queen was gone, Joffrey and his siblings too. Yet the Hound remained with the remaining Kingsguard. The gold cloaks and Lannister guards, Varys was off to the side looking terrified by what he had witnessed. And then there was Littlefinger, who had a dagger to Eddard’s throat.

“Put the hammer down girl. And Lord Stark lives.” He called out, but Nora tightened her grip and squatted slowly. She checked a man and found him breathing.

“You’ve already shown me you’re a traitor.” Nora shouted.

“Think of the little one.” Petyr said with a sly smile and beneath the armour Nora’s anger and the beginning of guilt subsided completely, replaced by calm decisiveness.

“Mention her again, or anything happens, and I will find and end you personally.” Petyr seemed to understand as his smile faded. She had just killed three, two Kingsguard members single-handedly, not to mention over a dozen of the combined gold and red cloaks and many more that were injured, some of which would never walk properly again.

The Great Hall was silent, save for the groaning of grown and broken men. Injured or dying, not one moved to help while Nora remained standing at the centre. _Robert’s dead… Eddard could be killed… Varys can’t help and the queen has fled. Ren, Ren what do I do?_ She asked, beginning to take in her situation. Alone and surrounded by enemies who all wanted her dead. She had no friends in this world, and Barra was in trouble since Petyr and Varys knew.

“Nora.” Came a gentle call. The bootsteps were loud and metallic, someone with steel boots headed towards her. “Nora, put down your hammer and we can talk about this.” Nora’s head snapped towards the voice, to Barristan, his sword still on his hip and his hands held open. She had killed two of his sworn brothers and at least broken the nose of the third. Nora took a few moments to consider what she wanted. _Barra, I need to protect her._

“I… I want to leave.”


	23. A Dark Night

** Ren **

Ren still hadn’t gotten a chance to ask Jon about Weiss and if he truly knew her. The matter of their vows and the hand had slowed things down. _This isn’t the time to ask a personal question. Not when two rangers have been found dead._ Ren told himself. He had stayed out beyond the wall as long as he could, until darkness threatened to blind him. The next day he requested that he accompany the group to search for the missing men, the Lord Commander agreed. So he searched for days with The Watch, until the bodies were found.

It had been Jon’s direwolf that had shown them the way to the bodies, white while their eyes stared up at the sky above. Blue and icy, dead and unmoving. The dogs the kennel master had brought along had refused to sniff out the trail from what the brother mumbled about. The horses too disliked the area. _I could use my semblance, calm the men and animals down. Would that even help?_ He wondered.

“Othor, Jafer Flowers too. Poor bastards.” Mormont said as he inspected the dead. It had been Jafer’s right hand that Ghost had brought to Jon while they were saying the vows, his left was still attached but black from the frost.

“I can’t look.” Jon was standing off to the side with the fat man Samwell, who had spoken.

“You have to. Maester Aemon sent you to be his eyes.” Jon told him. The old Maester was blind and old, so very old.

“But… I’m a coward Jon.” Samwell answered.

“I can help with that Sam.” Ren said as he walked over. “My semblance can mask negative emotions. Perhaps with it you can look upon the body and do your duty to Maester Aemon.” Both Jon and Sam gave him peculiar looks before Jon spoke.

“You’re a brother of The Night’s Watch. Do your duty Sam.” Jon encouraged.

“Fine… fine.” Samwell stepped forwards and Ren placed a hand on his shoulder. He waited to see if the man would look on his own, but when he failed to, Ren activated his semblance. It was something he’d done a thousand times and needed no practice at all. And with it came movement from the heavy male.

He found that Sam was looking at the body now, not just the first though, his head had turned just a little to gaze at the second body. Ren had been feeling a bit ill before using his semblance, it had been some time since he had seen a dead body and it still affected him. _This semblance is a blessing._ He told himself then as like many times before.

The more senior brothers were talking about how they had been killed, and who by. Mance Rayder and his wildlings were the favourite opinion of the group, but Jeor Mormont was quick to dismiss the claim stating that since there were so close, if Ben Stark had been attacked he would have come back for more men.

“It has been close to half a year since Benjen left us, my lord. I’d wager these two were the last survivors of his group and were making their way back… when they were set upon. Their bodies are still fresh, the cannot be much more than a day old.” Ser Jaremy said.

“No.” Samwell squeaked in a high-pitched voice. He had stepped away from Ren’s hand and out of the effect of his semblance.

“I didn’t ask for your views, boy.” Growled Jaremy.

“Let him speak.” Jon said, standing up for his fellow new brother. The Old Bear’s eyes flickered to Sam.

“If the lad has something to say, I’ll hear him out.” Mormont declared. “Come closer boy.” He ordered.

Sam went on to speak about the blood of Jafer’s right stump. It hadn’t bled since Ghost had ripped it off and explained that if it were fresh then the blood would have flown at least for a time, and later turn into jelly as it clotted. Ren looked to the stump and understood, the blood was crusted and dried, the veins were easily visible in the pale flesh.

The brothers, mostly Jaremy continued to argue with Samwell and while he did, Sam defended himself and showed why he was valuable to The Watch. The bodies didn’t stink, Dywen even knelt to get a good whiff of them only to find they didn’t stink, at least not like a corpse should.

“They aren’t rotting. Look, there are no…. no maggots or…. Or worms or anything. They’ve been lying here in the…. The woods, but they haven’t been ch…. Chewed or eaten or touched by animals… only ghost…o-otherwise…” Sam said in his usual stuttering way when he was nervous or flustered under the scrutiny of those how thought themselves far above the fat boy.

“Untouched.” Jon finished for him. “Ghost is different though, the dogs and horses won’t come near the bodies.”

Mormont ordered Chett, the man Sam had replaced as Maester Aemon’s steward, to bring the hounds closer. Chett, to his credit did try. He pulled and called at them to go closer, but that turned into cursing and even the kicking of one dog. Still they did not move, digging their heels in and growling, barking, whining. It was all they could do until one lunged at Chett who fell backwards. The dog sped off into the forest and away from the bodies.

“With… with those wounds… so many and so… so terrible, there s-should be blood… so much blood all over. Shouldn’t there?” Sam asked while Ren just looked on. The wounds didn’t appear to have bled. _Perhaps someone cleaned the wounds?_ Ren asked himself, but who would do that to those they hated.

“Might be they didn’t die here. Might be that someone brought ‘em here to send a warning.” Dywen said.

“Burn them.” One of the rangers called. A second and third echoed the first brother’s request.

“Not yet. I want Maester Aemon to have a look at them.” Mormont said and although the order wasn’t acted upon immediately, the men did as they were commanded and set to work preparing them to be taken back to Castle Black.

As Ren rode back into Castle Black, Alliser Throne was drilling his boys in the yard. He always had someone training. New recruit or grizzled veteran, Thorne gave it to them and demanded the best. Ren had learned he was on the losing side of a old civil war that had Robert Baratheon overthrow the previous ruling family. The Targaryens who had ruled for almost three hundred years, until Robert dethroned them and kill almost all of them.

The dead men were carried off to one of the storerooms along the base of the Wall for Maester Aemon to go and inspect later. _I should probably go again, if Sam is going._ After dismounting and giving his horse a few brushes and a fistful of oats. It was only when he was walking back that he was approached by Pyp. He was a small man, but with large ears that Ren had oft heard him boast that he could wiggle.

“You were with them right? Jon says them dead brothers looked queer.” Pyp asked.

“Dead for days without a stink. Wounds that hadn’t bled for one reason or another. Untouched by animals too, and blue eyes.” _Icy blue, so very odd._ Ren answered.

“Blue eyes? Don’t think neither of them had blue eyes. Though I can’t be certain. Have you heard the new?” Pyp asked instead, and Ren shook his head. “King’s dead. Or so the bird claims.”

“The King died? I hope his son is a good man then.” Ren answered simply.

“Good? Heard from Jon that the boy king was an arse when he visited Winterfell. Time will tell. I’ll thank him if he sends up some new furs and decent ale. Aye, that I will.” Pypar said with a smile.

“Then I shall pray that it happens too.” _And maybe some more men, some wood and stone too perhaps._ Ren didn’t think much of the “castle” they lived in. A poor excuse of a thing with weak walls, the backs of many buildings acted as part of the wall in fact.

“Ren!” Came Donal Noye’s voice as he made his way up some stairs. The blacksmith was big bellied and had bristly black stubble for a beard. _That reminds me, I should shave._ Even one handed, Donal had been the finest blacksmith The Watch had seen in years, he was the one who crafted the nice new daggers hanging at Ren’s sides.

“Donal, what can I do for you?”

“Do for me? Naught, boy. Unless you can give me a new arm you should listen.” The blacksmith said.

“If we were on Remnant I would say that is possible, a new arm.” Donal’s face showed interest. “An arm made of metal, able to be used just like a real one, only more durable, you could even use it as the hammer for your forge.” Ren smiled, not entirely sure the suggestion was a good one. Fortunately there was no way to prove something like that.

“A metal arm… aye, that would be something.” Ren could see Donal trying to figure out what such a thing might look like. “But I’ll stick to one arm in the meantime, so long as the new king sends something up. Poor Robert.”

“Do new kings often send things to the Night’s Watch?” Ren asked, wondering if Tyrion was still alive. The new king would be his nephew, half Lannister. _I wonder if these wealthy people in this world are generous?_

“More oft than not. Though it will be the criminals from the cells and a little food and old furs. Nothing of good quality, even most of the metal I get given is poor in quality. Iron, that’s what most of the Night’s Watch’s has in the swords now. Not unless a lord is generous and sends a shipment of steel.” Donal gestured to the daggers.

“And I thank them and you, for giving me such a valuable gift.” Ren said with a bow.

“Easy to craft daggers boy, the real challenge was the warhammer I made for King Robert. Now that thing was impressive, made for a boy growing into a man, the haft was longer for his height at the time, the hammer too heavy for him to swing it about. But by the gods, when I heard he has used it to kill Rhaegar on the Trident, I knew my craftsmanship would go down in history.” Donal had a sparkle in his eyes, something that Ren rarely saw at The Wall. Old and cold, full of criminals wanting redemption or to escape their sins.

“You crafted the weapon that helped crown a king. Congratulations.” Ren said as he thought back to Nora. Short and energetic, kind of heart and never cruel, the timid girl that had been with her wooden mallet, and the transformation into a powerful teen with her own warhammer that used to look ridiculous when she first held it. _The hammer makes the man or woman._ Ren felt himself smiling as a tear slipped free.

“You all right Ren?” Ren could have sworn it was Nora’s voice, but as he opened his eyes he found Donal looking at him with concern.

“Don’t worry yourself. Just thinking of a friend. I hope she is well.” Ren told him. “I just need a little rest. I haven’t slept much since Ghost found the bodies.”

“Aye, get yourself some rest. Old Mormont could use a strong hand, I’ve seen you fight.” Donal clapped Ren on the back with his one arm and the two went their separate ways. Ren to find a bed, Donal back to his forge.

During dinner there was a ruckus. Jon Snow had been teased and taunted, Ren knew as much after wards. Thorne had provoked the boy on something very fresh on his mind, something that made Ren dislike the man greatly. Jon’s father had been arrested and imprisoned after attempting to usurp the throne King Robert had left to his son.

Pyp had told him this Jon had been stripped of his weapons and commanded not to leave his cell until called upon. _How can one not react when their father is called into question?_ Ren asked himself, thinking back to the few memories he had of his own father. If someone told Ren that his father was a bad man or betrayed a friend, he wouldn’t believe it either. He left the mess hall after that and returned to his quarters.

Waking amidst the night, Ren felt too troubled to sleep again. Walking out under the stars, he pulled his black cloak around him. Thick and warm, a cloak of the Night’s Watch, yet he was still not a sworn brother. There was something peculiar in the air though, a coldness unlike he had experienced since arriving on this world. The moonlight shone brighter here since the moon wasn’t splintered like Remnants.

Spotting someone sitting down, Ren approached. It was odd for a brother to sit, especially in the snow where his cloak would get damp and slowly cool him. They usually stood around fires to keep themselves from freezing, but not this one.

He was about to open his mouth to speak, when something glimmered on his torso. Upon close inspection, Ren found that the brother wasn’t sitting down, he was slouched and bleeding, the moonlight flashing off the weeping blood, black in the night much like The Watch itself. Dark and cold.

A loud groan accompanied a thud as a plume of snow rose to his left. Ren retreated, startled by the action and found himself looking at another man as his lifeblood darkened the snow. Above them was a shuffling, which is when the alarm was raised. A horn sounded in the night, a warning for all in the castle. _Who would attack The Watch? I thought they were neutral?_ He wondered as he raced up the stairs.

He arrived behind the man who had already killed two, only to find him choking another with a hand and… a stump. _Jafer Flowers?_ Acting quickly to save the man, Ren used one of his new daggers to cut the hand off Jafer and then the other he stabbed into the man’s lower back. Wheeling him about, he rammed the handless bastard into the railing, tipping himself over it along with Jafers.

Ren landed on his feet however, both daggers in his hands and bloody. Cleaning his daggers on the corpse, Ren felt a tugging at his heel. As he turned to see who it was, he felt sick beyond anything he’d felt before. The hand he had cut off was squeezing at his ankle, the pressure was growing more intense, so much so that he pried the cold, dead, frost blackened hand from his ankle and drove a dagger through it.

“This… this is wrong.” Ren said allowed.

“Ren! Behi…” The voice was cut off as his surroundings were washed around. Finding himself on his back, the cold of the ground welcoming him with a chill that made his hair stand on end.

The corpse soon appeared, throwing itself at him with murderous icy blue gaze. He caught it’s neck with his free hand, the dagger having fallen from it along with the squirming hand. And his other dagger pierced the corpse’s stomach. With a grunt he pulled the blade towards the Corpse’s chest, but no blood spilled, just a queer stench.

The stumps began beating at his face, but Ren had his aura up acting as a field to stop the contact. _Grimm don’t come back from the dead. Black fur and red eyes. They’re like…_ Shifting his weight, Ren rolled out and stood up. He backed away into the yard where Alliser Throne trained the brothers and held his spot.

“You alright boy!?” Donal called from the walkway outside his forge.

“Fine! Two of your brothers have been killed though.” Ren answered back, letting the corpse come at him. It was slow and clumsy, the only reason it had him on his back was because Ren didn’t know what he was fighting. This time though, Ren wanted to test it.

Using his vastly superior speed, Ren lurched to the side, ducking under a stumped swing and cutting at the tendons beneath the armpit. Still the corpse moved, raising that arm yet again. _Curious._ Ren moved about as others watched, they were shouting to hurry up and kill the creature that had once been their brother. He had been a man who’d eaten and trained with all of those watching and Ren didn’t want to make it seem as though he was toying with the creature.

When the next opportunity came, he stabbed the corpse through the neck and turned his blade flat before withdrawing it. He heard the crunch of bones but held himself composed, Grimm had bone armour and he had heard that crack more times than he cared to count. But still the corpse of Jafer Flowers pressed him.

“Step aside boy!” A man cried, taking a sword to the corpse instead of Ren’s daggers. Ren watched as Jaremy sliced an arm off and opened the corpse’s bowels, a T shape carved into the frozen flesh. Unfazed by his attacks, the corpse thumped the ranger with its remaining stump and bit into the man’s neck. “AAHHHH!” The scream was horrific and snapped Ren out of his thoughts. _Act first think later._

Although he knew that pulling the biting corpse off Jaremy would likely cause some more harm, it was better than the man having his throat torn to shreds. Jaremy fell to his knees holding his neck, Ren heard someone yell to wake Maester Aemon, but his focus was mostly on the corpse. Finally there was some red on him, but it was someone else’s red.

As others began to bare their steel, Ren dashed forwards, slipped his dagger up under the corpse’s chin and up further until the steel popped through the top of his skull. Ren didn’t stop there, making sure the thing would die and knowing it had a weakened neck from his blade going through it, and the axe blow he had originally died from. Ren twisted, twisted and pulled and pushed the corpse. The tearing of flesh, that was something he had hoped never to hear again. But there it was, skin and tendons, everything stretching before the head was torn from its owner’s body.

He dropped the head onto the ground, the icy blue orbs darted around as the body continued to flail. The brothers stepped away and slowly the body, along with the eyes faded to stillness. Ren finally felt like the ordeal was over, nothing could survive a beheading, let alone one so brutal.

By then the tower of the commander was ablaze and brothers were scrambling to find out why. Ren just wiped his blade clean and did the same to the other after fetching it from the hand. _It feels… warmer._ Ren observed, and it wasn’t because of the tower that had come to light. _The dead man is slain and the warmth returns._ He looked about and found Samwell looking on with a terrified expression on his face. He might have been a second moon with how pale he was.

When Jon and the Lord Commander were freed from the tower and the fire, Jon was shown to Maester Aemon to have his wounds healed. Ren would find out from the Lord Commander along with the rest there, that Jon and his direwolf had slain Othor for the second time. Other was one of the two dead rangers they found, both had blue eyes and both had risen again.

Talking started and Mormont was made aware that Ren had basically taken care of Jafer Flowers single-handedly. Not that Jaremy wasn’t mentioned and praised for trying to help, but it had been Ren that took on the heavy lifting and dealt the final blow by removing the creature’s head.

“You still think The Watch is boring, boy?” Mormont asked. Ren took a moment to gather himself and reply.

“Boring? Try terrifying… exciting even. The monsters I was training to hunt and kill, they weren’t human, let alone ones that came back from the dead and take a brutal beating to put down again.”

“Then I ask again, will you join the Night’s Watch?” Jeor asked, serious as ever. Having a man of worth at The Wall would be huge help, especially considering that Ren now knew what it took to kill whatever had attacked them.

“I’ll stay at The Wall.” Jeor started to smile. “But I won’t take your oath. I don’t see it as necessary for me.” Ren stated. He could see the pain on Jeor’s face, but a heavy hand that squeezed his shoulder let him know that the Old Bear was thankful.

“What do we do with the bodies?” One of the men asked as their dead brothers were laid out beside the risen and down brother with blue eyes.

“Burn them.” Jeor said.

“Burn. Burn. Burn.’ His crow squawked after him. The men nodded and within the hour the three corpses were burning. _I wonder how the rest of them have fared beyond the wall?_ The smell of burning flesh was new to Ren, human flesh anyway. Something else he would have to get used to.


	24. Parade of Banners

** Weiss **

Weiss had learned a lot in her time with the Starks, experienced a great deal too. The fire that served as a distraction, the attempts on Bran’s life. Once by a mysterious man wielding a knife, the result which had seen Lady Stark leave for King’s Landing. She still questioned whether or not she should have gone with the woman. She would have served a far better guard, though if she went south then she may not return back north leaving Catelyn without protection.

She had written to Ren too, twice, once to let him know she wasn’t too far away, a second time to convey her feelings of joy that she wasn’t alone when Ren provided her with the proof she needed. _The moon here isn’t shattered, perhaps you would like me to make some pancakes when we have the time to meet._ That was all she needed to believe it was truly him. The moon here was whole, and Nora loved her pancakes asking Ren to make then on more than a dozen occasions and that was only while Weiss herself was present.

She was amidst the writing of her second letter to Ren when news reached her of Bran being attacked in the forest while with Robb, Theon, and two of their direwolves. The boy had been riding in the saddle that Tyrion Lannister had been gracious enough to gift the maester with the instructions on its construction. Bran had been more than eager to get about riding, back to looking the young knight once more.

There were two deserters from the Night’s Watch amongst those that attacked and almost kidnapped Bran, wildlings, or Free Folk as they called themselves according to what Weiss had read and what Maester Luwin told her after treating the cut on Bran’s leg, of which the boy could not feel. Having become a cripple after breaking his back, Weiss was simply glad his life wasn’t extinguished. The North was a hard land with hard men, and now Bran had to be one of the hardest, it was lucky he had the help of his household, a commoner would have been better off dead after such an injury.

Robb ordered the woods searched for any remaining deserters or wildings, but none were to be found. The one that he had taken prisoner was called Osha, she is tall and lean, standing a head taller than Robb. She has a hard face and shaggy brown hair, and now walks around chained at the ankles and sometimes the wrists. She was the only survivor, because she begged for her life and Robb saw no point in further bloodshed.

Her reply was short, telling Ren that she could not leave Winterfell just yet as Bran had his lift threatened again and the young boy Robb Stark could use her help to rule. He was experienced yet needed help in ruling, this was evident to Weiss when his direwolves almost ripped Tyrion to pieces and failed to listen to their owner’s commands.

Yet all that changed when news reached Winterfell of King Robert’s death and Eddard Stark’s imprisonment. Thanks to some small suggestion from Theon Greyjoy, Robb had ordered Maester Luwin to summon every one of his bannermen and all the men they could raise. It was then that Weiss knew she would not be leaving for a while and would include that in her third letter to Ren, when she got around to writing one.

Often she perched herself atop the gatehouse with a warm cloak wrapped around herself, long ago had she chosen to wear pants instead of her combat skirt. They were obviously far warmer, but her weapon, Myrtenaster was always ready at her hip. She had shown Robb and his men that she could beat them in single combat, even with several of them taking her on at once, she danced around them. Osha had seen this, Bran too.

Following Robbs request for his banners to come to him, Weiss watched day after day as the number of men swarmed and bloated the castle, overflowing it and spreading around the walls as they made camp. Even the winter town that was usually empty was filled and bursting with all the men that came.

Weiss made out the mailed fist of the Glovers, silver on scarlet. The black bear of the Mormonts, the flayed man on the Lord of the Dreadfort’s banner. A bull moose for the Hornwoods, a battle-axe for the Cerwyns, three sentinel trees for the Tallharts and the roaring giant in shattered chains that stood angrily on the Umber banners. Weiss had learned all of their banners since winding up in The North and she was a straight A student so memorising them had been simple.

Those were to name just a few, the major houses, for each of them came many smaller houses that were lesser vassals. _A medieval time with medieval rules._ Though Weiss did spy a couple of woman riding at the head of one of the armies. Under the black bear of House Mormont, two women rode at the head of the column. _I’ve got to meet those two._

As the final House made their way under the gatehouse with their sunburst, white on black, Weiss made her way down, pulling up her cloak as she did. Eddard’s warning still carried with her, white hair almost silver, eyes blue instead of purple, she was almost a spitting image of a Targaryen, something that the Lord of Winterfell had wanted to hide.

Weiss went to Luwin, or at least tried to, but he was with Robb who was always with one of his lords. _Nobility, command, everything his father trained him for, just like my own father._ Weiss hated her father, he had driven her mother to alcohol and to the point where she was always so intoxicated and prone to emotional outbursts, that Jacques had seen to it that the children weren’t allowed to see her unless she was sober. But even then she looked terrible, nothing like the photos of when she was a young woman so full of life and fire.

Willow Schnee, mother of Weiss, her older sister Winter, and younger brother Whitely. All of the girls had inherited the semblance that passed down like no other semblance on Remnant. Theirs was unique, able to passed from mother to daughter, missing the males of the line. Weiss has always strived to be like her older sister, tall and dignified, skilled beyond any huntsmen of her year. Winter had trained her personally for many years before joining the military, but Weiss still felt that she was only an ember compared to her sister’s blinding beauty and skill. _A beacon, a flame that I’ll never reach._

With all of the lords finally gathered, Robb set his plan into motion as he housed them all inside the Great Hall of Winterfell. The lords and only their right-hand man as there was so many to fit. The seconds were likely all the heirs that were to succeed their parents at some point in the future, if it was that they did go to war, Weiss knew some would need to take up that role sooner than they wanted, others would never get the chance. Such were the tales of war, families lost brothers, sons, fathers, family members of other relations too. This war would be no different.

As the lords filtered into the Great Hall and the talking began, wine and ale was brought forth with the food. Robb was seated at the head of the main table with the high lords down one side, his own household members down the other, Theon amongst them. Weiss stood in the corner, Myrtenaster hidden beneath her cloak. She had asked to join, but Robb was playing the diplomat. He allowed her to join, but not to sit with them.

“A woman at the main table or any table who isn’t a Lady, would be as an insult to my Lords. I know your skill, and you’re smart too. Please see that I must earn my lords loyalty, then it will be easier to bring you into the fold.” Robb had told her, placing a hand on her shoulder and almost begging with his eyes. _He knows he cannot stop me, even if he tries._ Weiss realised and had agreed. She’d stand there, hood up and her white hair tied back so that not a strand would be seen. No need to rile everyone up if they thought a Targaryen in their midst.

Robb was only a boy of fifteen, though some people considered him a man grown. Weiss was quite the opposite, she wasn’t yet a woman and she was about two years his senior. So his lords and ladies tested Robb, many requesting, if not demanding that they have the honour of being battle commander. Weiss saw no problem with this, apparently many had fought in the war against the Targaryens, so there was plenty of experienced leaders amongst Robbs men.

Roose Bolten asked first, brusquely at that. Robett Glover was the second, though his approach was much more gentle. A smile and a jest, Weiss would rather him over the other soft-spoken man. Then a woman spoke with him, Weiss knew it was a Mormont, they were the only other two women in the entire hall who were allowed at the tables.

She continued to watch as one after another, all approached Robb at some point during the night, early or late he seen them all and somehow they had all bowed respectfully. He even gave Weiss a stern look and a subtle nod. She couldn’t help but smile in return. _He’s doing well. Gathering men much older and securing their loyalty somehow._ Weiss thought.

“You there.” Came a feminine voice direct at Weiss. “Why don’t you serve like the other girls?” The woman who asked was much taller than Weiss, lanky and long of features.

“Lord Stark commanded me to stand and listen.” Weiss answered.

“Did he?” The woman cast her gaze over to the young lord. “And why would he make that order of a girl? Are you his bed mate?” Weiss’ cheeks turned bright red as the woman asked so openly. _Bed mate! As if I’d ever!_ She screamed internally.

“No. I do not have that kind of relationship with Robb.” Weiss said, immediately regretting her choice or words.

“Robb, is it. You must be close to have him call you by name.” The smile on the woman’s face made Weiss angry and uncomfortable.

“Want him for yourself?” Weiss shot back, trying to put the woman on the backfoot.

“Whether he becomes mine or not, I care not. Mother has likely already offered him my hand, though she would have told me by now if he had accepted.” Her eyes showed no disappointment in the result.

“You’re a Mormont. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” Weiss stated.

“I am, my mother’s heir. Dacey Mormont.” The woman said, dressed in leather armour with mail overtop. _At least they don’t conform to the men._

“For thirty years I’ve been making corpses out of men, boy.” Came a booming voice that made Weiss bite her tongue. Dacey looked over too, wondering who it was. “I’m the man you want leading the vanguard.”

“That be Jon Umber, Greatjon Umber, the Greatjon. Lord of Last Hearth and the head of House Umber.” Dacey pointed out. _Why are you telling me this?_ Weiss asked herself.

“Galbart Glover, will lead the van.” Robb answered showing no fear to the larger man at the opposing end of the table.

“The bloody wall will melt, before an Umber marches behind a Glover.” The Greatjon countered. The muttering in the hall wasn’t hard to hear over, the man was making a scene, testing Robb like the others had, only more publicly. “I, will lead the van. Or I will take my men and march them home.” Robb who had dropped his eyes and intertwined his fingers before him on the table, looked up.

“Now we see how the little lord takes the Greatjon’s threat.” Dacey whispered, clearly engaged by the goings on.

“You are welcome to do so Lord Umber. And when I’m done with the Lannisters,” Robb took to his feet so that he may have the height to look somewhat intimidating over his lord. “I will march back north, root you out of your keep and hang you for an oathbreaker.” _You idiot! Why did you threaten him?!_

“Oathbreaker is it?!” The Greatjon stood, tossing aside the iron bowl he was eating from. His voice silenced the entire hall, all eyes were on him and Robb. “I’ll not sit here and swallow insults from a boy so green he pisses grass!” He bellowed, reaching for his sword. Weiss held herself back, Robb had men around him that would defend him surely. Theon was there too and she saw him drawing his sword, but the Greatjon was huge. _He must be seven feet tall._

But the wolf was quicker than the men, Grey Wind had leapt onto the table and dashed across before the Greatjon could fully draw his steel. The wolf’s snarls filled the hall as Grey wind bit onto the man, taking him to the ground where groans of pain could be heard. All the Lords and Lady Maege were standing.

After several long seconds that felt like minutes to Weiss, there was a sickening crunch and a louder groan from the man on the stone floor. But Grey Wind had never gone for the kill, and when Lord Umber rose he could be seen holding his hand. _Blood, he’s been bitten._ It took a second and longer glance for Weiss to realise that he was missing two fingers.

“My Lord father taught me it was death to bare steel against your liege lord.” Robb started as Lord Umber huffed himself back to his feet finally. “But doubtless, the Greatjon only meant to cut my meat for me.” The man answered in anger and pain, kicking his wooden chair across the room and breaking it against the wall.

“Your meat?!” He roared. “Is bloody tough.” The Greatjon said holding up his remaining fingers. What happened next left Weiss utterly bewildered. The man began laughing and the rest of the hall with him, even Robb looked happy that the challenge had been met and ended with what appeared to be a loyal man, though short two fingers.

Greatjon Umber became Robb’s right-hand man after that point, talking loudly and proudly that the young Lord was a true Stark and that others had better follow him. That night was a great victory for Robb, and one where Weiss melted into the background again. She saw the woman search for her, but when they locked eyes, Weiss found her nodding and re-joining one of the tables off to the side.

The next day was busy, men boasting their skills to one another, talking about those they’d killed, those they had fucked, and how they would kill every Lannister man they found. It was good to see the moral so high but disgusting that so many thought that war was the right course of action.

That night another feast was held, but there were none of the lord bannermen, only their heirs and others of worth. Bran was left to give them the hospitality of Winterfell, of which he did a remarkable job considering how young he was. _He reminds me of when I first had to welcome all the businessmen for dinner. Bunch of silver-spooned A-holes._

As the food started to flow, and the alcohol even more so, Weiss sighed as she knew she was to witness another night of pointless drinking and games. At least Dacey was there. She spotted the tall woman heading her way when there was a hand on her shoulder.

“A letter for you. It bears the seal of…”

“… The Night’s Watch. You have read it?” Weiss asked the old Maester. “Forget it, thank you Maester.” She ignored the woman heading her way and unravelled the paper. _A letter from Ren. Finally, something I can be happy about._ Though the contents of the letter were anything but.

Hello Weiss, I hope this letter finds you in good health and in a better state than I am while I wrote this. Things at The Wall are getting worse, we found two men dead, experienced rangers by the Lord Commander’s own mouth. We brought them back in and over the night they rose again. You might not believe me, but we come from a world where monsters are very real. Grimm bother everyone and we’ve all lost someone or something, felt the pain that the Grimm have caused. But when these men rose from the dead, I’ve only ever been more frightened once in my life.

Jon managed to kill one with fire, the other had already killed two men before I found it. I stabbed it several times. Stomach, back, throat, I even cut its hand off but it kept coming. The next bit I write is squeamish, so I understand it you skip to the next break. I stopped it, but only after I removed its head from its body.

Weiss, I am writing because The Wall needs men and resources. Jeor Mormont has told me that they are always lacking and with this discovery he asks that Robb Stark, please send him aid. I know I asked you in my first letter, but now I feel I need to ask as well. The Wall needs more of everything.

I will be staying at The Wall and fighting with them for a time. I hope not to find more of these creatures and pray that you come north with help. The Wall isn’t a place for women, but I doubt any would question your ability when they see you in action.

Other than the news so foul, I hope you are doing well Weiss. I hear that war could be brewing. Be safe, be smart, not that I need to tell you do be either.

Your friend

Lie Ren

Weiss rolled up the letter, frozen solid. _The dead coming to life?_ Wondering if Ren was lying or not she couldn’t say. He didn’t seem the lying type, only quiet, honest and intelligent. Weiss knew that without Ren, Nora would forgot or ignore her homework, he was the driver behind her studies, and she was the power in the front lines. Ren was the support and now he was asking on behalf of the Night’s Watch, on behalf of his own beliefs now.

“Ill news?” Dacey asked, snapping Weiss out of her stupor.

“Ye…. No.” Weiss sighed and let her arms fall to her side. “Odd news, odd and bad. From my friend at The Wall.” Weiss admitted.

“At The Wall, I hope he is an honourable man. My uncle is the Lord Commander there.” Dacey told her.

“Jeor Mormont?” Weiss asked with the woman smiling. “Ren did mention him. Sorry, but I must find Ro… Lord Stark immediately.”

“Allow me to accompany you. I doubt the guards would let a serving girl through to him in an important meeting. Though, I’ve never seen you serve anything.” There was a smirk on her face before Weiss realised she was being teased.

“Very well. Accompany me if you must.” Weiss said, leaving the Great Hall and the feast. The two women made their way to where Robb was feasting in private with his key lords. It was the solar where Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn used to break their fast.

As they approached the guards blocked their path. Weiss knew this would happen and sighed. But as Grey Wind perked up and came to her, she knelt and patted him. She would refuse to answer any questions until she was allowed in. Eventually she lost her patience with the men. _I should be in there learning about the plans. They trusted me with their mother leaving for King’s Landing after a time and revealed Bran had been attacked. Robb knows I am educated and can be of use._

Summoning a gravity glyph, she pushed both guards to one side with such force that they fall to the ground. They remained shocked as they were put on the ground without Weiss even touching them. Dacey said something beside Weiss but she ignored it and opened the door.

“… we will head down.” The voice stopped and the faces all turned to her. “Weiss.” Robb said looking concerned.

“Lord Stark, Northern Lords, Lady.” She nodded to Maege. “Please excuse my interruption but I must bring something to the attention of Lord Stark while he has so many men here at Winterfell.”

“At least the girl speaks well. You a servant? We could use for ale.” One of the men said.

“I am no servant. If you want your ale, summon one, or go and get it yourself. You all have legs and arms big enough to carry it.” _I shouldn’t have said that._ She often felt as if she was dealing with idiots and thus she spoke down to them at times. A bad habit that she had been trying so hard to break since accepting Ruby as team leader.

“You a lady-in-waiting then?” One man asked. “Maybe Lord Robb’s night time consort.” And jested, bringing forth laughter.

“Weiss, can we discuss whatever it is later?” Robb asked.

“My Lord, you do not ask for the wench to go. You command her or are you no man at all.” Silence followed that comment, another challenge, but Weiss wouldn’t let herself be ordered out. She pushed back her hood showing her hair to the lords. There were gasps and she even heard someone whisper the word Eddard feared they would. Targaryen.

“Weiss…” Robb started.

“I am Weiss Schnee. I have read about your Targaryens and I can happily say I am not one of them. The thought of incest disgusts me.” That silenced a few of them quickly. “Lord Stark, I require your attention now. I’m sure these men could use some rest and a clear head before resuming planning. Perhaps it best wait until morning where they will have all of their witts about them.” Weiss’ confidence and boldness, and her accusation of the men not having their witts brought forth a laugh.

“I like her. We should bring her along. If not for fighting, for her ability to shut these men up.” Maege called out, she was the first to leave. “Dacey, what are you doing here?”

“I accompanied Weiss up. Mother… I saw…” They were too far away for Weiss to keep listening, and the movement the men made as they shuffled out, grumbling and wishing a good rest to their lord made it further difficult, more impossible to listen to what Dacey was saying. _I used a glyph in front of her. That could cause trouble._

When at last the door shut, Weiss went to the table and put her hands on one side as Robb was already doing so on his side of the table. The look he gave her was one of great annoyance, anger, and frustration.

“I asked you not to do that while I was with my lords.” Robb said.

“Half of them were drunk, if my words helped or harmed your cause tomorrow then let me know and I swear I won’t do it again.” Weiss said swiftly, before pushing the roll of paper towards him. Robb opened it and took his time reading and then shifted uncomfortably.

“It’s a story old Nan used to tell. They were likely just traitors trying to run, faked being dead and got caught before they fought back.” Robb said accusingly.

“How many ben can survive a dagger through their neck then?” Weiss asked.

“An exaggeration to be sure.” Robb answered.

“Ren wouldn’t lie, I’ve never known him to tell a lie so why would he do so about something so important?” At this point Weiss had raised her voice.

“I’m leading my men to war!” Robb shouted, turning and putting his hand on a beam that supported the roof. Weiss was taken aback by his tone, she hadn’t expected him to return the yell.

“So it’s decided then.” It was more a statement than a question.

“Yes. The Lannisters are attacking the Riverlands, my mother is a Tully, I’m half Tully. I have to support my family, both sides.” Robb said to her sounding pained.

“Then go but send the Night’s Watch fifty men and some supplies. They must need it, especially if the Lord Commander has convinced Ren to write to me to ask for help.” _He even wrote asking personally._

“I can’t do that, I need every man and every resource I have. After the war I will send them hundreds of prisoners and arms taken from my foes.” Robb said, earning himself a scolding look from Weiss. Though there was one thing she admired, his persistence to go and help his family and his grandfather’s people.

“Swear it to me. Once you have defeated the Lannisters or peace has been restored to the Riverlands, you will send men to The Wall, and send other forms of aid as well.” Weiss awaited his answer.

“And why should I swear that to you? We have no witnesses, you’re nobody, less than a commoner in this world.” Robb shot back, taking a dig at her. It was true, if she died or went missing no one would care, maybe Ren, but would he search as to why, or who?

“They say your father is honourable. I thought that your honour would keep you bound to a promise, even one to me.” Weiss said plainly, hoping she could pull on the honour of the Starks.

“You doubt my father?”

“I doubt you, Robb. Not openly, but right now, I doubt that you will follow through if I allow you to go to war without supporting the Night’s Watch first.” Weiss believed in Ren, more so than anyone she’d met in Westeros.

“If I swear that I will aid The Watch when I return, you must ride with me. You must help me win the war against the Lannisters and ensure my families safety.” Robb said, a trade of sorts. _Oh that is so one sided._

“I will ride with you, speak out when I think you are acting wrongly, but I will not kill for you Robb. I was trained to kill monsters, men aren’t monsters.” Weiss pointed out, seeing if he would accept her company and potentially her council.

“Men can be monsters, you just haven’t met one yet.” Robb said softly, the certainty of his words is what hit home for Weiss. Jacques, her father was monster, a control freak, abusive and manipulative.

“I see your point. If I consider a man to be a monster, I will disarm him and leave him for your judgement.” She answered, standing tall and proudly.

“Fine, then I swear on my honour, that when the war is done, I will send men to The Wall, I will even go there myself and speak with the Lord Commander.” Robb’s answer had Weiss beaming.

“I knew you were reasonable, so when do we leave?” Weiss chirped, looking forwards to leaving the stronghold that was Winterfell.

“In two day. Be ready to move by then.” Robb revealed the decision had already been made, something Weiss was grateful for. _Waiting too long in war can be a terrible thing._

And so, two days later the northern host left Winterfell along the kingsroad. Weiss had learned there were twelve thousand men marching south to support the Tullys, three thousand were mounted lancers, with the remaining nine thousand being predominantly warriors with at least two thousand bowmen.

Weiss rode out from Winterfell with her hood on. She had the time to embroider her family emblem onto the back of her cloak. It hadn’t been her that did it, but she drew the emblem and the most highly skill women spent all her waking hours to have it done. Weiss was so happy with the result, that she told the woman she would look for her upon her return. Robb had given her money enough to pay the woman, but Weiss wanted to give more than what Robb allowed.

“That you House sigil?” Came a voice from her right, Dacey Mormont.

“I suppose you could call it that. The Schnee family has had this emblem since my grandfather founded the company. Though it dates back further than him, and my own father has dirtied our heritage.” Weiss told her, rather surprising herself.

“It looks like a snowflake, only pointy.” Dacey commented.

“Snow is cold and it can kill as well as any steel, unless your properly protected.” Weiss said with a smile.

“Ha! The tongue on this one.” Came Maege’s more aged voice. “First she shuts the men up, then she speaks as if she came from The North herself.”

_But I did come from the north._ Solitas was the continent on which Mantle and Atlas were built. The coldest of the four great nations with snow never too far from its boundaries and often causing the streets to be icy. _Maybe it was good that I ended up here instead of south._


	25. Lesson Learned

** Pyrrha **

The night of Viserys’ golden crowning had past many days prior and Pyrrha still hadn’t an idea for the gift she would claim. It was weighing on her mind, what she could choose that was of value. She had kept the sword Viserys had owned, but never wore it out. She didn’t want for jewels or silks or horses. She couldn’t think of a thing Drogo had that she wanted.

Thankfully, a great caravan had arrived during one night with four hundred horses. Doreah told her that they came from Pentos under the commands of some captain. There would be many great treasures amidst the caravans and getting out amongst other people other than the Dothraki was something that Pyrrha greatly desired.

“You must go with me then. I would not know the value of things and the merchants might take advantage of me.” Pyrrha told her.

“The Khaleesi is going to the markets too. I am to go with her.” Doreah said.

“I’ll speak with Dany, you will go with me at least for a while. I am sure she will allow it, I did save her and the baby.” She said with a smile, walking from her hut with Doreah beside her.

As they came upon Dany, she was flanked by Jorah, her Khas, her remaining handmaidens and some other slaves that the Dothraki had. _We must find a way to make them free… but the Dothraki ways fight against our promise._ There were no weapons on them save a whip, but her followers wouldn’t allow their khalessi to come to harm, especially Jorah.

“You are joining us?” Dany questioned with a smile.

“I will walk with you to the markets, but then Doreah and I will be going off ourselves to look at the wares at our own discretion.” Pyrrha told her, there was no hint of a request, Dany was a child and in her debt.

“Khaleesi, what she means is… she prays you let me…” Doreah spoke.

“It is fine. You can accompany Pyrrha for the day. I owe her that much.” Dany said with a smile.

Pyrrha thanked Dany and the two joined the larger group. The walk to the markets took longer than expected, but the conversation was easy. Dany still had may questions to ask and Jorah was always willing to answer. _He likes her, it’s like how I looked at Jaune._ Pyrrha realised. She taken a liking to Jaune when they first met, she was a nobody to him which was almost unheard of, though his affection for Weiss had slowly degraded her attraction. He never looked at her, and when he did it was as a friend and mentor, never in the way she desired, never like how he gazed blindly at Weiss.

The Western Market was where the merchants set up, there seemed a hundred or more scattered around the great square of beaten earth. As they passed in front of the stalls many were still setting up, the smell of so many things filled Pyrrha’s nose. Smiling wide, she looked joyfully at what they had to offer. _I wish I had some money. The smell of garlic and pepper… Oum, what I’d give for a meal on Remnant._ All the Dothraki usually ate was horse meat.

There were many animals Pyrrha had not seen since landing in Essos, elephants and monkeys, zebras that the others called striped horses. There were clothing stalls and armour merchants, jewellery and foods Pyrrha hadn’t seen before. It was only when she heard the mention of cakes that she turned around from her gazing.

“Cakes?” She asked, hopeful that she could have at least a bite. But it was not to be.

“Cakes are they? I could not say Princess.” Jorah bowed. “If you would pardon me for a time, I will seek out the captain and see if he had letters for us.”

“Very well. I’ll help you find him.” Dany offered.

“There is no need for you to trouble yourself. Enjoy the market, I will rejoin you when my business is concluded.” Jorah sound a little impatient to Pyrrha, though maybe it was the heat.

Pyrrha could feel the sun beating down on her and it wasn’t yet midday. Her fair skin had darkened slightly since her time on the new world, but she was still fairer than everyone she met, save for the sickly. Sweat ran down her spin and between her breasts, occasionally she wiped a trickle from her forehead. Still the eyes found her, the bright red hair screaming out that she was unique.

“The bear must be going to find a woman, khaleesi.” Irri said with a giggle.

“He is a man, he has those desires. Let him fill them if they plague him so.” Dany answered without a blush. Though beside her Pyrrha was red cheeked. She had heard Dany and Drogo going at it a few times, seen and heard countless others. The Dothraki often did it beneath the stars for all to see, or it wasn’t worth doing.

“You are blushing again.” Came a whisper in her ear. “Do I need to tease you again?” Doreah giggled beside her. Pyrrha flashed her a daring gaze and shook her head.

“There is no need. Dany.” She started, her handmaids and khas glared at her. _Still thinking I’ll use her title._ “Doreah and I will leave your company for a bit.”

Dany nodded, telling Pyrrha she wanted her maid back before they feasted that very night. That was fine by Pyrrha, she didn’t expect to stay out that long, she needed to go and do her routine training before it became dark anyway. Dany could have Doreah back for she did not have need of the girl after the markets.

Doreah and Pyrrha walked the markets, both pale of skin but with different hair and eyes. Sapphire blue and emerald green eyes, fair hair for Doreah and blood red for Pyrrha. They mixed in well with some of the people there in the Western Market, bit Pyrrha’s hair was what truly set her apart, that and her six-foot appearance. She was a head taller than Doreah, who was even taller than Dany,

They inspected many things in the marker, foods and clothing, jewels and animals. Doreah though they were amazing, though the item that had caught Pyrrha’s interest was a beautiful feathered cloak. She didn’t buy it, more like she couldn’t. All she had were gifts from Dany and trophies from the Dothraki she had killed, given to her by the friends of those she’d killed. Bronze and silver medallions that hung from her belt.

It was when Doreah stopped and stared at something that Pyrrha took notice. There was a charm amongst a whole lot of other things, but Pyrrha didn’t know what it was.

“Do you want that one?” She asked, pointing out the one Doreah was clearly longing for.

“N-no, there is no need.” Doreah claimed, but Pyrrha asked for it. The merchant was happy to part with it for a bronze medallion, he even gave some small change too. The handmaiden looked shocked to say the least, but a smile quickly appeared on her face as she held the charm in her palms. Pyrrha guided her around and out of peoples way.

As the sun reached its highest point, Pyrrha mentioned that she was hungry. The charm she had brought for Doreah now hung around her neck, partially hidden beneath her top.

“Khaleesi mentioned something about sausages earlier.” Doreah offered her input. They soon found the stall with the sausages and ordered. Doreah got herself two while Pyrrha nabbed herself three. They were doused in garlic and hot peppers, leaving a tingling sensation in their mouths. _I can taste the horse still._ Pyrrha observed.

Pyrrha lead Doreah over to a spot on the grass and crossed her feet under her. They ate in silence and watched many others go by. People with fair skin and dark, darker than the Dothraki almond, black as the night sky. Animals too and people on chains. _Slaves, one of the khalasars sold._ Pyrrha figured, before looking at Doreah.

“You know, I haven’t ever asked what your home is like.”

“Home? As in Lys?” Doreah asked.

“Yes. I know you’re from there and that… what you used to do there.” Pyrrha blushed leaving herself open for more mockery.

“Yes, my time in the pleasure house you mean.” Doreah voiced, teasing the blushing teen of a similar age. “It was fun, learning how to treat men how they wanted to be treated. Many of them thought themselves gods beneath the sheets. Truth is…. I’ve yet to find one.” She giggled while Pyrrha wished she had another sausage to choke on.

“You don’t need to tell me about that. I know you said it was better than living in the streets… those poor girls.” Pyrrha looked down at herself, wondering what she would do to survive if she wasn’t so gifted. Whores, prostitutes were a part of her world too, she had even seen some walking certain streets late at night. In Mistral and Vale, men always lusted, and for the women who needed the money, it was a certain way of getting it.

“I know, but I wished to. I like seeing you cheeks turn all rosy.” Pyrrha pouted but Doreah just pinched her cheek lightly and giggled. “Such a strong woman, has no man ever touched you?”

“Yes.” Pyrrha found herself saying. “Though… not in those ways.” She thought back to her father’s embraces, her old combat instructors and opponents. To Ren and Jaune, though none ever touched her indecently as Doreah wished to know.

“How come? You’re very beautiful, strong too, though men don’t like a woman stronger than them.” Doreah reached out and ran her hand, delicate as it was from Pyrrha’s bare shoulder down the back of her arm over her tricep and to her elbow and back up the front of Pyrrha’s arm feeling her bicep and smiling. “So masculine.” Pyrrha blushed.

“Is that a bad thing?” She knew it wasn’t, huntresses has to be in great shape else they find themselves on deaths door or inside the belly of a Grimm.

“Depends, I prefer it myself. Your much thicker than Viserys was.” Doreah admitted. _He used her, he fucked her because she was brought to teach Dany how to…_ She shook it form her mind.

“He was a weak man, physically and mentally. Dany seems to be growing stronger mentally though.” Pyrrha looked Doreah over. “You look well enough, lithe even.”

“What does that mean?” Doreah questioned.

“Well… it means you have slim body, thin and supple, graceful when you move.” Pyrrha answered her.

“Lithe.” The handmaiden repeated and smiled. “If the Red Rider calls me such…”

“Red Rider? Is that what they call me?” Pyrrha sked sounding amused.

“Yes, have you not heard?” Pyrrha shook her head. “They call you that, along with magie, a less flattering title. Horse Slayer, Barber, that one was from the slaves when they heard you killed Dothraki. No one would win a braid against you, only lose what they had or their lives.”

“I did not choose to fight them. They came after me.” Pyrrha told her.

“We have heard you say it before, many times. But those are the names they have given you. I like Red Rider. For when I see your hair blowing in the wind…” Doreah smiled and looked away. “Khaleesi also has amazing hair.” Pyrrha frowned and caught the hand that fell from her shoulder and held it gently, bringing back Doreah’s gaze, this time a little uncertain.

“She has silver hair, though it makes her look old.” Doreah’s giggle made Pyrrha grin. “I like yours. A mix of silver and blonde. Fairer and accentuates your eyes.”

“My eyes? It is my breasts and what is between my legs that men are after.” Pyrrha blushed and Doreah laughed.

“Must you make everything I say into talk of… our womanly parts?” Pyrrha asked with a sulky expression.

“I must, you look so adorable when you become flustered.” Doreah reinforced her reasoning. Pyrrha entertained her greatly, at no expense to the handmaiden.

“Enough, please. Tell me about Lys, what are the people like, the city itself, what you miss about it.” Pyrrha retained Doreah’s hand in her own so the girl couldn’t run, not that she would.

“Lys is a merchant city, people come from all over to trade there. An island with the protection of high walls and well paid sellswords. People say that the blood of Old Valyria still runs through our veins, though I don’t know much more about that.” Pyrrha could tell, the blue eyes and fair hair, pale skin and lithe body. Doreah certainly had some of the old blood in her. “People consider trade to be more important that strength of arms, is this true from where you are from?”

“We need strength of arms to fight off creatures of Grimm.” Pyrrha went on to tell Doreah about many of the beasts. Wolf and bearlike monsters, black furred, red eyed with bone armour that even steel struggled to penetrate. The look on the girl’s face made Pyrrha smile. _She understands their danger already._

She continued to explain about the armies the four nations had, and how she was training to be a huntress, someone who was specially trained to deal with a variety of Grimm that even large amounts of soldiers would have trouble with.

“You risk your life for everyone?” Doreah asked upon Pyrrha finishing speaking.

“Yes, every Grimm we kill is one less that is likely to attack anyone in the world. It’s why I trained so hard, to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.”

“Even the slaves?” Doreah asked. Pyrrha shook her head and squeezed the girl’s hand.

“There are no slaves on Remnant. Only free people that are less fortunate than others.” She knew that the Faunus were the people treated the worst, but that was on the mend.

“No slaves. That sounds… impossible.” Doreah’s sad face made Pyrrha hurt.

“It’s the truth, I swear it to you.” Pyrrha said putting a hand on her cheek.

“You swear it… Oh if only the khaleesi was here. To hear you swear anything.” Her laughter was forced, but the pressure Pyrrha felt against her palm spoke volumes. _She was a whore, bought and sold and used, sold to teach a princess and used by her brother, a beggar prince._

“Doreah. I won’t let another person touch you. Not unless you choose it yourself. I will talk with Dany, she told me she wouldn’t take any slaves, you should be free.”

“Can you do that… really do that?” She asked, her blue hues threatening to overflow.

“I can. I can and I will, I promise you that.” Pyrrha answered with a confident smile. _Dany can’t deny me._

“We will see.” Doreah asked, but there was a small smile that showed that she hoped Pyrrha was telling the truth. “Where… where was I?”

“Where being a merchant was considered better than a soldier.”

“Right… so other than the merchants, sellswords make up the army and tend to spend a lot of what they are paid visiting the many pillow houses.” Pyrrha against blushed but held Doreah’s eyes. “Good, you didn’t look away, this time.” She teased.

“Are there many… pillow houses?” The words came off more calmly than whore house.

“Many, so many that I don’t know the exact amount. Dozens? A hundred maybe? Lys the Lovely, some people call the city. Perhaps it’s because of all the pillow houses and the Perfumed Garden.” Doreah guessed.

“Perfumed Garden? Why would they ruin a perfectly good garden by covering the smells?” Pyrrha was confused as to why people could be so stupid, but as Doreah laughed she wondered if the garden was something different.

“The Perfumed Garden is our most famous pillow house. The perfume covers the stenches of sex…” Pyrrha’s face burned. “… and the garden refers to the variety of, sweet fruits that are there to be…” Pyrrha felt a hand on her knee and looked down to find Doreah’s other hand sliding upwards. “… tasted.” She finished with a whispered that had Pyrrha lean in to hear her. Doreah’s fingertips had just gone under Pyrrha’s sandsilk skirt overlaid with leather, when a voice would call to them.

“Pyrrha! Doreah!” She felt the handmaiden remove her hand as she moved to her feet. _Jorah?_ The knight continued towards them, his brow dripping with sweat. “The Khaleesi commands your presence, and requests yours.” Pyrrha knew who the command was to and how Doreah had to obey it or be punished.

“Is something wrong?” Pyrrha asked.

“The princess… a wine merchant attempted to poison her.” Jorah stated as he lead the way. Pyrrha asked many questions on the way back to Dany, who, why, how was it discovered. The knight told them how he began to fear and suspect after reading a letter from Magister Illyrio, the man who had housed Dany and her brother for many years in Pentos.

He had returned to Dany’s side just in time, she almost drank the wine until Jorah had asked for a taste first. The wineseller had argued that it was only for the princess, which is when Jorah demanded he have a drink first and when the man refused, Dany ordered him to. The man had tried to flee after that but was apprehended by Dany’s khas and ko.

When Doreah and Pyrrha returned, Dany was guarded by her ko and tended to by her two other handmaidens, both of whom glared at Doreah. Dany’s eyes betrayed her as Pyrrha seen them puffy and red. For how long she had been crying she did not know, the only thing she knew was that the girl was likely fearing for her life and the life of her unborn child.

Doreah went to her khaleesi to see what she could do while the other two lit several torches around them. Pyrrha pulled Ser Jorah aside and asked who had ordered her to be targeted. It turned out to be a far-off king, the one that had killed her brother and unseated House Targaryen from the Iron Throne. King Robert Baratheon, a man that Jorah had even fought beside on some island several years ago.

It was a surprise when Dany dismissed everyone, everyone save Jorah and Pyrrha. Doreah gave her a sad look before she continued out the door. Pyrrha approached and looked over Dany as she spoke. She was constantly stroking her belly which had truly begun to show. It wouldn’t be too many more moons until she brought forth this, Stallion who mounts the world.

“Ser Jorah, light the brazier.” Dany commanded, and the knight ever dutiful to his princess, obeyed. Despite claiming that is was much too warm to have the large fire going. Pyrrha was on his side, the sun was still high and the heat would make them all dehydrated.

Dany carried the black stone egg over to the brazier and placed it among the flames and burning coals. Pyrrha did the same with the cream-and-gold egg, picking it up and leaving the green egg alone in the case that held them when Dany did not. She placed it next to the other and smiled at Dany, hoping to bring a smile to the young girl’s face.

“Their sibling will feel left out.” Dany whispered, her voice strained from her sobbing over the attempt on her life.

“They are…” _Stones._ Pyrrha wanted to say. “… I will fetch it.” She made to move but Dany took her wrist.

“Look. See how they drink the heat. They’re feeding on the flames.” Dany claimed, her eyes so focused on the black stone egg.

Pyrrha remained silent, looking at the eggs and watching the flames lick at the scales that had turned to stone. _I wonder what live eggs would look like?_ She wondered as the gold seemed to deepen on the cream-and-gold egg. The cream itself appeared to glow from the heat, darkening. She was disturbed as Dany set the other egg beside them two already in the brazier. _Was I so engrossed?_ She hadn’t even heard Dany move from her side.

As Dany took her seat again, Pyrrha went to her and sat on the ground. She didn’t need the pillows or comfort that Dany had, she wasn’t the one swelling as a child grew within her. _Poison. Poison can slip past anyone’s guard if it is hidden amongst pleasantness._ Pyrrha had fought all kinds of opponents with carious weapons, skills, semblances, plans of attack and even those who tried to use cheap shots. All was fair when it came to combat, though what was attempted was no combat at all. She was quick to realise the risk and raised her voice.

“A food tester. You should have one from now on. You’re vulnerable to nothing save for poison.” Pyrrha told her, but Dany didn’t answer. “Jorah was lucky this time, but what if he isn’t there the next? You should get one, I’m sure one of your handmaidens would be fine with doing it.” Pyrrha suggested. _Though not Doreah, she’s been through enough._ Truth was that she didn’t feel much for the other two, they seemed perfectly fine with serving Dany, but Doreah had been bought, she was a slave that Pyrrha had promised to free not two hours ago.

“They tried to kill my child.” Dany answered after a long silence. “They tried to kill the last dragons.”

“You aren’t a dragon, you are a human, flesh and blood and bones. Just like me.” Pyrrha told her again. Dragons were mythical beasts of immense power, armoured in scales stronger than steel if the stories were to be believed.

“I am, a dragon.” Her voice was slightly fiercer, but Pyrrha only smiled.

“Even a dragon armoured and safe can die to poison.” Pyrrha warned, not truly knowing if that was true, or if it was how much poison it would take. “Even me, my aura can protect me from all kinds of physical attacks. But if you were to offer me a drink laced with poison. Even I would succumb to it.” Of all the threats Pyrrha had faced and beaten, poison was something not on that list. No one could defeat it alone, not unless a miracle happened or they had an antidote nearby, the latter of which Pyrrha figured the khaleesi didn’t have.

Dany didn’t answer and Pyrrha didn’t want to push her while in a fragile state. The brazier burned itself out while they waited, uncomfortably so. Pyrrha had gone and fetched one of the eggs, the cream-and-gold one again, polishing it before placing it back in the case. She made to grab another when Khal Drogo returned from his hunt. His prize was amazing, and horrifying. The man had slain a lion with white fur, large and fierce, its claws bloody. She matched the wounds to those on Drogo’s leg and closed her eyes. _A fighter to the end._

When Dany told Drogo what had nearly happened to her, the laughter and cheering stopped. The hunt had been marred by the attempt on her life. She heard Drogo gift Jorah and Jhogo any horse amongst his vast heard, save for his own and Dany’s steeds. _A similar boon to my own, only I can choose something other than a horse._

It was after that, that Drogo fell into a rage. He paced around their home, swearing vengeance upon the king that had tried to kill his wife and child. Swore that he would take back the Targaryen throne for his wife and son and tear down the stone houses that the men made across the poison water. _The Dothraki distrust any water their horses cannot drink._ It was something Jorah had said, yet Drogo said they would take the wooden horses and cross the water like no Khal had ever done before.

Pyrrha learned the name of Drogo’s father and heard him swear his vengeance to his own gods, the horse gods of the Dothraki, the Great Stallion. _Perhaps the prophecy tells of how Stallion who mounts the world is close to his god?_ Though the chanting and cheering of Drogo’s vow clouded even her thoughts. She could only watch on as Dany smiled, happy that her husband had finally decided to take his people west and cross the sea. Pyrrha feared for the future, tens of thousands would die, she was certain of it.

It was dark when Pyrrha returned to her own housing, along and cold, her thoughts on the future and the threats that Dany would face. A girl barely fifteen, pregnant and married to the greatest horse-lord alive. She was in a powerful position, but the day had shown she was still very vulnerable. Pushing the flat aside, she entered her hut and lit a few candles. It was then that a shape moved from the darkness that had Pyrrha take a fighting stance.

“I heard the khaleesi is feeling better. And that the Khal is marching west.” Doreah said as she stepped closer. _I need to focus._

“It’s true, he swore before his gods, he is now bound to it.” Pyrrha confirmed for her. “What are you doing here Doreah?”

“I came to see you. I will not be missed. Khaleesi is with her husband and I will return to my hut soon. I just wished to look upon you once more.” The handmaiden said. Pyrrha felt her heart tighten, she wasn’t put on a pedestal in Essos, no one knew her. Not until she had killed dozens of Dothraki riders.

“Look upon me? Why?”

“You’ve forgotten already? Perhaps I was misunderstanding. Dream well.” Doreah said, making for the exit in a hurry. It was a moment that threatened to pass without Pyrrha ever knowing why, but it came back to her with just enough time. Pyrrha reached out and caught her wrist, pulling her back to her and accidently pulling the shorter woman against her.

“I haven’t.” She recalled the fingertips that had been sliding up under her skirt while they sat on the grass of the Western Market, before they learned about the attempt on Dany’s life. A blush came to her face as she recalled the feeling. “I have been too busy thinking about Dany. Her life and her child’s were almost lost today.”

“That is true, but now I must return to my bed.” Doreah tried to pull away again but Pyrrha grabbed her hip. She received a hiss in response and Doreah moved closer.

“Stop… it hurts.”

“I didn’t… I’m sorry.” Pyrrha apologised quickly and let go, she hadn’t meant to harm the girl.

“It’s… not your fault.” Doreah lifted her clothing where a red mark could be seen. “Irri and Jhiqui, they were angry I wasn’t there to tend the Khaleesi sooner.” Pyrrha frowned and groaned. _It was my fault, if I hadn’t asked for you._ She gently put her hand over the red spot and felt Doreah move.

“I will not hurt you. And I apologise. I haven’t asked for your freedom yet but I will. And I will speak to Dany about this if you wish.” The champion said. A hand, soft and smooth covered her own.

“No. Don’t not bother the Khaleesi with this. Bruises I can handle, many men got rough beneath the sheets.” Pyrrha didn’t blush.

“Brutes and fools, for harming a beautiful woman.” Pyrrha told her, placing her other hand on Doreah’s shoulder. Her heart was racing. _Why am I saying these things… doing them for her?_

“Beautiful? I thought I was a slave… a whore… a tool to be used and abused? Doreah’s wrapped her fingers around Pyrrha’s wrist that rested near her shoulder. There was fear, Pyrrha could feel the woman trembling and felt her expression change to a sad one. There wasn’t a smile but her gaze had hardened.

“Tools can still be beautiful, look at swords and shields. But you aren’t a tool, you’re a person with feeling and dreams. What do you dream of?” Pyrrha asked, using her thumb to rub the other girl’s bare shoulder.

“Dream… I don’t…freedom I suppose… and one other thing as of late.” Doreah answered, her bright blue eyes flickering in the candlelight.

Pyrrha just smiled. Freedom would be something slaves dreamed of, but Doreah wouldn’t have to dream of that for long. She could dream of something sweeter, something she could do with her freedom. _Jaune… I was a fool and didn’t act soon enough. I won’t make the same mistake again._

Pyrrha moved herself instead of the shorter girl, leaning down and slowly drawing her face closer to Doreah’s. To the Lyseni girl’s credit and experience, she knew exactly what Pyrrha was trying to do and smiled sweetly, pushing herself closer and up to meet Pyrrha’s nervous action, for the four-time champion of Mistral, the Red Rider, the Barber, had never before pressed her lips to another.

Doreah’s eyes closed and her mouth slowly changed shape. For Pyrrha it seemed to take minutes to reach her goal as he mind became clouded and her stomach crawled with insects. Her heart raced, almost as if she were back in the arena fighting for her fourth consecutive title. The last thing Pyrrha witnessed before closing her eyes, was the calm stillness of Doreah eyelids, her long eyelashes and the smooth paleness of her skin.

Their lips touched beyond the darkness of her eyes, soft and gentle, delicate. There was no hint of the cracked lips many women had around the camp. Doreah’s lips were the smoothest things to ever grace her own. They were like living silk and Pyrrha new she wanted more, more of her lips, more kissing, more of Doreah.

There was no rush in that moment shared between the two, only the gentle humming from Doreah as Pyrrha pulled away nervously. Her eyes opened to two great and joy filled orbs of blue. Her breath caught in her throat as her cheeks darkened. Doreah just giggled at the state of the woman and stole another as she brushed he Red Rider’s lips with her own.

“So sweet. The kiss of a virgin… a virgin of many things though now one less.” The former whore whispered, gently taking Pyrrha’s hands from her shoulder and bruised hip. “Rest well… my sweet Tomato.”

Pyrrha couldn’t bring herself to say anything as Doreah left, giggling to herself and just once, looking back over her shoulder to make sure Pyrrha was still there, standing red cheeked and stunned. It took more than a moment for Pyrrha to recover from her action, the once she had initiated. She lay down in her bed and touched her lips gently. _That was…_ Her dreams that night were filled with joy.


End file.
